


Stalking Shadows

by stacy_l



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Assault, Dark, Drama, Gen, Harassment, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Non-Consensual, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Non-Consensual Touching, Obsessive Behavior, Psychological Trauma, Sexual Content, Stalking, Threats, Threats of Violence, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-26
Updated: 2015-12-09
Packaged: 2018-04-23 12:19:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 9
Words: 29,388
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4876558
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stacy_l/pseuds/stacy_l
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Running has become second nature to him, for stopping will only lead to his downfall.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Desperate Times

**Author's Note:**

> This story may be disturbing to some readers due to the issues covered within, so please read the warnings before proceeding. Thank you!
> 
> Originally started in September 2009.

[](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4876558)

**PROLOGUE: Desperate Times**

_“The number you are trying to reach is no longer in service.”_

They were just words, a simple phrase stating a fact. They didn’t mean anything. They couldn’t pick up on the tension screaming in his body, on the panic he bit back with every sharp breath he took. They couldn’t tell him everything was going to be okay or that he was worried for no reason. They were just words issuing from an automated recording belonging to an inanimate machine on the other end. 

As he hit the redial he waited hoping, praying he had dialed the wrong number. Again the recording came over the line. It hadn’t changed merely repeated like a broken record, flat and emotionless. He hung up. 

The third time he dialed the number he watched the screen intently carefully typing each individual number into the key pad and feeling his heart beat increase as he waited, read the “calling” message on the phone and read the name of the one he was trying to reach on the LCD screen. He heard a click and sat up straighter positive that this time he’d reach the one he was trying desperately to get in touch with. He waited drawing in a shaky breath and holding it his hopes ripping to shreds as that cold automated voice came back to him. His grip tightened on the phone, his vision started to cloud and mist before he abruptly tossed the phone to the far side of the vehicle. It landed with a loud thump that drew his attention. Almost immediately he found himself staring at the blazing blue screen that clearly listed Dean’s name and number in bold block letters. He was still able to hear the unwanted message continue to play. He wanted to crush the phone, to grind it into oblivion just to shut that electronic voice up and then as if it had read his mind the LCD panel blinked out and the phone line went dead. 

The abrupt ending of that computer generated voice rang loudly in his ears while the click of the call being disconnected echoed eerily reminding him of the sound a hand gun makes when being cocked to fire. It was so final, so impersonal that it could only mean one thing: Dean was in trouble.


	2. Desperate Measures

**Desperate Measures**

College campuses were always the same no matter where you went or what state you were in. They had multiple buildings interwoven with grassy mounds, park benches, sidewalks and playing fields. They were almost always packed with people. Some people were in a rush, while others walked slowly along chatting amicably with their friends. On the benches and bits of grass patches scattered across the campus grounds were people with books and papers. Some were sitting on those benches and others were sprawled out on the grass either trying to study, catch up on a little sleep or waiting patiently for their next class to start. He usually liked to sit back and just watch but today was not one of those days. Today he was on an important mission, and he had to keep busy. Time wasn’t on his side and if he couldn’t find the one he came to speak with then more of that precious time would go to waste, quickly fading along with any hope he had. 

He had to go to the main office and inquire about schedules, but finding his way there was a challenge unto itself. Stanford University was no small mediocre school. It was huge. The main buildings were all made of adobe interwoven with blacktopped drives and parking areas that reminded him strangely of downtown Tucson. The structures were impressive both in size and style reminding him of one of those hidden resorts that only the elite could afford. He was impressed and proud that his son had managed to get into such a prestigious college, although he was still angry that he chose _this_ over his family. 

He had been here countless times before keeping a wayward eye on his youngest while remaining “hidden”. He had never once stopped at the main office though. He didn’t want word to get to his son that he had even been there. He’d rather the boy just assume he didn’t care and was still bitter after their last fight. It was foolish really but if he wanted a different life, a _normal_ life, so badly then he’d have to give it to him. He had no choice in the matter, though it was the most difficult choice he had ever made, and he was still extremely angry about it. 

Shaking his head he silenced his thoughts as he climbed out of the cab of his truck and made his way to the building marked “Admissions.” Here he was certain he’d get his answers and be one step closer to finding both of his children. As that cryptic electronic message echoed in his mind he shook his head, silencing it once and for all knowing that the only way now to get them both back was to surrender to the necessity that he needed his youngest to help in the search for his oldest. First though he had to find out just _where_ his youngest was. 

Once inside the Admissions office he wasn’t sure what to say or how to approach. How did you request a student’s class schedule? He’d have to tell them it was an emergency and show them his ID, his real ID, which made him very nervous. He hesitated, his steps faltering, before he shook his head and approached the counter. 

At first they refused to help him until he told them it was an emergency, and he had to get in contact with someone immediately. When the secretary at the main desk still didn’t look convinced he turned on his charm and managed to finagle what he wanted right out from under her. He smiled at his victory as he made his way to his vehicle quickly climbing inside, reading through the class schedule and referencing the campus map to locate the building he needed to be at. Once to his destination he settled in his seat contemplating just how to approach the one he needed to speak with. 

Watching the double doors before him intently proved to be quite the challenge, especially when he had already spent a good fifteen minutes simply _waiting_. The urgency of his mission had him nervously tapping the steering wheel as he slouched further down in the seat. He was fast growing impatient debating whether he should just charge into the building or stay where he was. Uncertain of what kind of reaction he would get if he chose the former he settled on the latter and remained where he was once again centering his gaze on the double doors. Each time the doors swung open he sat up straighter and stared intently scanning the face or faces of those who were exiting the building. He’d start to feel anxious and nervous wondering what he was going to say, had planned to say before his shoulders would slump and he’d lean back in his seat again. For what must be the hundredth time he checked the schedule in his hands, checked the time on the paper then on his watch and checked the name of the building. Shaking his head and grumbling in frustration he glanced again at the title of the class **Bi Sci 002** and wondered what the hell _that_ had to do with becoming a lawyer? 

Movement at the doors drew his attention yet again, and he instantly sat up this time leaning forward in his seat as he spotted a brown haired young man racing out the door. Certain he had found the one he was seeking his heart lodged in his throat but as soon as the boy turned around he sighed in frustration and settled again. Not who he wanted to see, damn it! Where the hell was Sam? 

His mind started running a muck as he tried to figure out just where his youngest son was. He needed to see him, to speak with him NOW. Where the hell was he? It would be just like that boy not to be where he was supposed to be. Shaking his head he ran a hand down over his face as he started to wonder, not for the first time, if Sam had been sick and didn’t go to class today. Had he maybe overslept? Was he out to lunch? 

His thoughts fell silent as he spotted the one he had been waiting anxiously for. Finally! He shifted his hand already on the door handle as he prepared to jump out and greet him but when his son turned back towards the door he had just exited a broad smile stretched across his face he waited. He spotted the pretty petite blonde almost immediately and watched as she gave Sam a quick peck on the cheek before taking his hand in hers. He knew who she was. Her name was Jessica Moore and she was Sam’s girlfriend. He had looked into her. She came from a wealthy family, and she was smart, had graduated head of her class with honors. He knew her name, her date of birth, where her parents lived. He probably knew more about her than Sam did… It wasn’t the first time he sat in the shadows and watched his youngest son from afar. He had been doing it since Sam had left them, so had Dean. Neither he nor his eldest son ever announced that they were near. They only checked on him to make sure he was all right with his “normal” life. 

As Sam and Jessica turned and headed away from him he found himself shaking his head in regret. Dean should have had that too, a chance at a normal life, a chance to go to college, meet a girl and get married but he never got it and probably never would. What Dean did was the same thing he always had he made sure that Sammy’s dreams came true, but while Sammy’s dreams became reality Dean’s faded and died turning into ash. Hanging his head he felt such remorse and asked him self for what now must be the thousandth time just what he had done to his children. Pushing those thoughts away he forced himself to focus on the here and now, on what was important right now. Lifting his head he was surprised to see that Sam and his girlfriend were gone. Shit! Now he’d have to drive to their apartment, which was something he really didn’t want to do. 

Once there he remained in the truck just staring stupidly at the building knowing he had to speak with his youngest son but unable to make his body obey the command. As he thought of his eldest son he quickly cursed and forced himself up. Climbing out of the truck he loudly slammed the door his mind on just how in the hell he was intending to approach and speak with a son he had told ages ago to never come back. Closing his eyes he drummed up enough courage to begin his approach hovering on the porch for longer than necessary before finally knocking. 

Unsure of what to expect he drew in a calming breath and waited. When the door began to open inward he felt his breath hitch and managed to glance up hoping that he didn’t see anger and rage in the eyes of his youngest and caught off guard when his eyes settled on the softer blue ones of his son’s girlfriend. Swallowing past the lump that seemed to now be permanently lodged in his throat he smiled before muttering, “Uh Sam here?” 

She didn’t respond at first only stared at him in surprise and wonder before scanning him then answering, “Who…who are you?” 

“I’m Sam’s… I need to see him. Can I speak with him? Please?” 

She hesitated before cocking her head to the left squinting at him as if to see him clearer before her mouth formed a soft “oh” that had him embarrassingly casting his eyes downwards. Several long moments passed before he managed to lift his head again and focus on her noticing that she was starting to close the door. He quickly drew his hand up and stopped the door mid-way his voice taking on a softer edge as he implored, “Please I need to speak with him.” 

“I don’t… I don’t think that’s wise. Sam is...” 

“Tell him it’s about Dean.” 

“Dean?” 

The surprise on his face must have shown for she had the decency to look away. Didn’t she know that Sam had a brother? What the hell? Sam had said he wanted to break away from the family but that sure as hell didn’t mean to go so far as to deny that you even had a family, “What the fuck, Sam…” 

Catching the surprise and weariness in her eyes he realized that he had spoken those words aloud, softly, but aloud just the same and from her expression she most likely had heard them all. Shaking his head, aware that he was fast losing his chance to see his son, he focused on her gentling his voice and speaking louder as he said, “Tell him it’s about his brother.” 

She hesitated again before nodding and inviting him in. He followed her to the kitchen where Sam was working. She said his name and as he turned the smile on his face abruptly disappeared to be replaced with a scowl as Sam coldly snapped, “What do you want?” 

“I need to speak with you.” 

“Didn’t we do enough of that already?” 

“Sammy…” 

“It’s _Sam_ and I suggest you get the hell out of here. I have a knife and I damned well know how to use it, so get the fuck out.” 

“Hey mouth!” 

His immediate response was to lift his head, jut his chin out defiantly and grind his teeth as anger shined brightly in his eyes. He glowered before ordering, “Get out of our home, dad. You’re not wanted here.” 

“Son this _isn’t_ about me. It’s about your brother. He…” 

“Oh what, he go and get himself lost or something?” 

Anger quickly flared within John as he snapped, “Don’t talk about your brother that way! He damned well raised you, boy, and it wasn’t to be a non-caring asshole!” 

Ignoring the comment he fired back a question emphasizing each word as he demanded, “Why are you here, dad? You made it perfectly clear you didn’t want to ever see me again.” 

“Sam, your brother…” 

His tone softened becoming strained as he read the tension in his father’s eyes and body that had him prodding, “What dad? What’s wrong with Dean?” 

“He _is_ missing, son, that’s why I’m here. I…I _need_ your help to find him.” 

He watched as a multitude of expressions crossed his youngest son’s face and was relieved to see worry and concern among the most recognizable. He had been afraid that when he told Sam to never return that he had permanently severed the tight bond that had formed between his two sons so many years ago. He hadn’t been certain that Sam would even care. When those expressions warred for placement upon his youngest son’s face he breathed a small sigh of relief and thanked whoever was listening that Sam _still_ cared.


	3. Safety in Numbers

**Safety in Numbers**

_Several Weeks Earlier…_

_Entering the hotel room he was tired, exhausted and just wanted to rest. As he walked by the bed he briefly glanced at it longing to drop onto it before heading into the bathroom. Once he relieved himself he approached the bed and collapsed. He was asleep before his head even hit the pillow._

_As he awoke early the next morning he tried to figure out where he was. Tensing he shifted releasing a soft wince as he sat up in the bed. For several moments he sat still, quiet trying to recall why it was he still had his clothes and his shoes on. Then he remembered he had returned from a typical salt and burn, exhausted from being tossed about like a sack of potatoes by the ghost he was trying to eliminate. He had managed to finish the job but not without receiving a few more bruises and tense muscles as payment. Rubbing the back of his neck he realized he hadn’t even bathed and stood up to accomplish the task. As he entered the bathroom he halted noticing there was an odd box on the sink. Shaking his head he tried to recall if it had been there when he checked into the hotel. Shrugging he stepped into the shower and rinsed off before dressing and preparing to head out again. As he walked past the sink again his eyes caught sight of the odd box._

_Curious he hesitated before pushing the wash cloth draped over the edge of it off…and paled. Shaking his head he started backing away from the sink colliding with the closet doors as he did so. Unable to back any further away he stared intently at the box wondering if it was something the hotel generally gave to guests or something more sinister. He hesitated slowly inching his way towards it while mentally calling himself every kind of fool for thinking it was anything more than a hotel gift, but as he reached out his hand shook, his fingers twitched and he barely touched the edge of it. Drawing in a calming breath he yanked the lid off and jumped back at what was inside. Wincing as he hit the closet door he ignored the pain as he slid slowly to the floor. The box banged softly on the tile and the note inside fluttered to the ground laying mere inches in front of his bare foot. He yanked his foot away from it as if it were burning before drawing his arms protectively around his body and pushing as far back in the corner of the room as he could. His eyes again raked over the bold red words running across the white paper in flowing type set. Swallowing hard, biting back the fear and panic threatening to consume him he read the words again: **“I Miss You.”**_

_To most people it would look like a romantic notion put out by a significant other, a boyfriend, a girlfriend, hell even a family member but to Dean Winchester it was a terrifying reminder of what he was running from, of **who** he was running from. At some point that box had intentionally been placed on that sink with that message inside. It was meant to be found, meant to draw his attention and hold it. It was meant to be an idle threat, a warning that he could be found no matter where he went, a promise that he would be found no matter how far or how long he ran._

_Swallowing hard he carefully stood before taking a wide berth out around the fallen box and note. Once in the bedroom he quickly gathered his stuff and tossed it all in his bag before scanning the room to make sure he had everything. Once done he headed for the door…and halted. If they had breached his room chances were fairly high he was being watched. Shit! He had to get out of here. He had to get away!_

_Cautiously he exited the hotel room before making his way to the front desk and checking out. He turned to leave pausing as he asked, “Has anyone been by my room or left a message for me by chance?”_

_“Mister Parker, correct…?”_

_“Yes that’s correct.”_

_She turned to glance through some papers before turning to him and presenting him with a simple white envelope that had typed across the front his alias in the same red flowing typeset as the note. He froze not wanting to accept the letter and hesitantly reaching for it. Once in his hand it felt like dead weight his heart hammering a thousand miles a minute in his chest. He managed a gruff thank you before heading to the Impala hoping, praying he wasn’t still being watched or else his escape would not go undetected._

_Carefully scanning the area and not seeing anyone he lowered into the Impala and took off. He had no idea where he would head next aware that it was time to cash in on one of the many alternate plans he had already put into place. It was time to escape to one of his safe places and drop off the scale yet again._

_Sighing in frustration he turned onto the road stopping at the local bus station he entered and purchased a ticket to Brooklyn. As he left the station he deliberately tossed the credit card with the Parker alias on it to the floor and tossed the bus ticket into the trash before returning to his car and driving to the airport. Once there he entered and purchased two plane tickets to two different destinations under the same alias then left again dropping a credit card for that alias onto the airport floor in hopes that the dead ends he was setting into place now would hold for longer than a few weeks._

_Glancing around he assured himself he wasn’t being followed and returned again to the Impala this time turning back in the direction he had originally come from driving passed the city limits and taking the Interstate towards California. He then proceeded to toss his cell phone out the window on that same highway while he went. Within moments he knew it would be destroyed as a car or truck ran over it._

_As he glanced in his rear view mirror he scoped the passing traffic and feeling relieved hit the gas as he prepared to disappear yet again._

* * * *

Sam was not happy with his visitor and was even more irritated that the sole reason he had come was because he was searching for Dean. He should be grateful that John Winchester had managed to stay out of his life since he headed off to college. It shouldn’t hurt to know his reason for _finally_ hunting him down wasn’t to apologize but to seek help in locating his brother. Gritting his teeth he casually spoke, “You’re an asshole. You know that, dad?” 

“What? What, son, I don’t…” 

It was then that Jessica spoke for the first time as she answered the question, “You came all this way to ask for his help to track his brother?” 

“Yes.” 

“And what about Sam…?” 

“Jessica…” came Sam’s only protest. 

Shaking her head she continued, “Could you at least ask him how he’s doing? Could you at least act like you care more about him as your son than as a damned reference or resource?” 

“Jessica, stop…” 

“No. No. She’s right, son. I’ve been so distracted by your brother’s disappearance that I… I’m sorry, but I really do need your help.” 

Now feeling angry, slighted in some way Sam snapped, “He’ll show up. Give him time. He always crawls back to daddy.” 

Shaking his head John began to speak, “Not anymore, and definitely not _this_ time…” 

That halted Sam’s tirade before he got any further. He managed, “Dean hasn’t been with you, hunting with you?” 

“Not in a long time Sam. He’s out on his own.” 

“That stupid son of a bitch…” 

“His choice… He stayed awhile after you left and then one day he was gone.” 

“So you decided to track me down to help you find him again.” 

“No Sam, it’s not like that.” 

“Right… When was the last time you talked to him?” 

“Three months ago.” 

“ _Three months ago_ and you’re just now searching for him?” 

“I figured he needed space, that he’d call me when he was ready.” 

“In other words your over-protectiveness drove him away?” 

“No, Sam. I… I haven’t heard from him in a long time, so I decided to call him.” 

“What happened?” 

“Phone’s no longer in service.” 

“He shut off his phone?” 

“Or someone broke it, either way he’s out there and we have to find him.” 

“Let me try another number.” 

Sam became even more worried when that call came up with similar results. His dad asked, “What number was that?” 

“Emergency number, his back up phone if I ever needed… It’s the same message, dad. Dean would carry that thing everywhere. I’m sure of it. It was his last link to me. I don’t… We need to find him.” 

“That’s what I’ve been trying to say, Sam.” 

“Yeah well… When was the last time you heard anything from him, about him?” 

“The last phone call was three months ago. The last time his name circulated was six months ago.” 

“He went to ground then.” 

“I’m guessing he didn’t want to be found.” 

“There was probably a good reason for that, dad.” 

Sam noticed the tightness of his dad’s face, the way he acted as if he knew something he hadn’t said, like he wasn’t telling him the whole truth. He opened his mouth to inquire further when his dad said, “Your brother’s a damned good hunter, Sam. He knows how to cover his tracks, but he never shut me out as much as he is now.” 

“Probably a reason for that dad…” 

Again the look like he knew something he wasn’t saying crossed his dad’s features. Shaking it off he continued, “Do you think he’s in trouble or just hiding?” 

“Wish I could say it was intentional but truth is he wouldn’t wait three months to hear from me and not pick up when I finally _did_ call.” 

“And he wouldn’t disconnect the phone number he gave me.” 

“Yeah…” 

“So where do we start?” 

“The last time he was seen he was in a little town in Louisiana. The last time he called he was in Maine.” 

“You tracked his phone?” 

“Tried to but when I got there he was gone.” 

“So activate the GPS…” 

“I did but the signal was gone. Figured he was in a place without towers and since our last talk didn’t go…well I figured he didn’t want to be found.” 

“So we have no leads?” 

“We could talk to a few of my old contacts, but that’s about all.” 

“In other words we have no leads?” 

“No. No I’m working on some though.” 

“And what are they?” 

“Uh well…”

Rolling his eyes and sighing heavily Sam quickly uttered, “Perfect,” before falling silent again. 

* * * *

_Pulling into the Texaco Station, Dean carefully got out of his car scanning the immediate area and highway while stretching before filling the car with gas. He then entered the store walking to the back to get a drink and snack before approaching the counter. As he waited in line he drew out his money halting his hand as it brushed against the edges of an envelope. Shit!_

_Swallowing hard he slowly drew the envelope completely out of his pocket and held it in his hand. As he stared at the pristine white paper, marred only by the deep red type set in the center of it, his hand began to shake._

_Tensing he jumped when another hand patted his arm and jerked his head up only to gaze into the concerned eyes of a young woman who softly questioned, “Are you going to pay for that?”_

_Confusion crossed his face as he asked, “Pay for…,” before halting the question as his eyes fell to the drink and snack in his other hand. Feeling stupid he quickly answered, “Yes, yes I’m sorry I…”_

_“Seemed a little distracted there…”_

_Offering a shy smile Dean sat the drink and snack on the counter as he replied, “Yeah a little. I’m sorry how much is that?”_

_“Five twenty-five.”_

_“Oh I had gas too, um pump 3.”_

_Nodding she added in the gas then said, “Thirty twenty-five.”_

_“Is that all?”_

_“Consider it a discount…”_

_Nodding he smiled again before handing her the money placing the envelope on the counter. As he gathered his stuff up he began to turn halting when she stopped him with a tug on his arm and held the envelope out to him saying he forgot it. He stared at it for several moments before quickly snatching it out of her hand and mouthing a quiet ‘thank you’ in reply._

_Walking quickly to the Impala he scanned the immediate area again before putting his drink and snack in the car. Then he turned and leaned against it drawing the envelope up into view. He stared at for several moments before cautiously opening it tensing as he drew the letter out, absently hearing a soft clink on the ground near his feet as he did. Drawing in a tense breath he opened the letter…and quickly tossed it in the trash heaving as bile threatened to rise in his throat. Closing his eyes he cursed himself for being stupid enough to open the letter concentrating on recovering a normal semblance of breath before returning to the car._

_As he opened the door he fumbled his keys cursing as they fell to the ground at his feet. Closing his eyes tightly shut he willed himself to calm down before opening them again and drawing his keys into his now limp fingers. As he drew them completely into his hand his eyes settled on a shiny object to his right. He vaguely recalled hearing a clink when he had opened the letter and wondered if that was what fell out. Drawing the object into his hand he held it up paling and nearly vomiting again as he realized just **what** he held: a key, a small key that looked like one that was often used with a set of shackles. _

_Quickly rising he tossed the key to the ground staring at it for several long moments as the message in the letter filled his mind: **“I’m coming for you.”** The threat in that message was clear, as was the handcuff key that had been included: if he was found he wouldn’t get another chance to escape… **ever again**. _

_Swallowing hard he climbed into the Impala and started it before driving away. This time instead of turning and heading towards California he took the exit marked Las Vegas. He couldn’t drive to California or he’d likely get caught since that was exactly where his younger brother was. He needed to see Sam but not if he was still being pursued. No, he’d have to avoid his family at all costs or take the chance of them becoming pawns in a sinister game of stalk and capture._

* * * *

It had been some time since Sam had seen his father, but he could still read him well. There was something off about this entire situation, but he couldn’t figure out what it was. Dean was missing. He was sure of it now, as if the tension in his father wasn’t enough to confirm that. Still there was something else going on that he had to figure out. Swallowing hard he asked, “Did something happen to Dean before he went missing, dad?” 

A heavy sigh was his answer before John began, “We were on a hunt in Elk Springs, Illinois when Dean caught the attention of a local girl. She… After several weeks he started getting phone calls.” 

Well that was cryptic. Dean started getting phone calls from some girl. What was so surprising about that? Shaking his head he silenced his internal tirade and asked, “Phone calls?” 

John nodded before continuing, “The calls… She, she’d call him several times a day asking him to help her out, to meet up with her, to join her for coffee…” 

Okay again that didn’t sound so odd. Growing impatient he interrupted, “So they were dating?” 

John glanced briefly at his son. He could see that Sam was getting frustrated with him. He wasn’t exactly sure how to explain the events of that hunt so he settled for a simple answer, “Not exactly.” 

Of course, simple never worked with Sam as he had this nasty habit of questioning everything, so when he asked his next question John wasn’t the least bit surprised by it, “Dad, what aren’t you telling me?” 

Sighing heavily he fished for words before settling on, “He started receiving phone calls as well as random messages, letters would arrive where we were staying.” 

“Letters…?” 

“Yes. They were all from her.” 

“So she really must’ve liked him then,” Sam said with slight humor in his voice. As his father focused intently on him he no longer felt the discussion humorous. Tensing he nervously licked his lips and waited feeling dread enter his heart at his father’s next words, “They contained threats.” 

Shit! 

Attempting to regain his composure Sam managed a sharp, “Such as…?” 

“Um you know the usual…” 

The usual...? What the fuck? 

“No dad, I don’t know. What do you mean by _the usual_?” 

“They contained messages mainly phrases and comments. They all seemed so innocent at first. Letters would show up containing messages like ‘I’m watching you’ and ‘we’ll be together soon.’ Dean blew them off…figured if he ignored them long enough then they’d just stop… They _never_ did, Sam. No matter where we went, what town we stayed in those messages would appear shortly thereafter. Dean didn’t seem too worried about them. They bothered him yes, but he ignored them. Several hunts after her town Dean… He vanished, disappeared without a trace. I searched for him for weeks hoping, praying that he had just decided to hunt on his own. Unfortunately those particular prayers were never answered. I did, however, find him…eventually.” 

“And…?” 

“And… I found him secured to a bed, Sammy, in an old warehouse. He was weak, malnourished… After that, after I helped him things were okay. For a time things even seemed to return to normal, but then the calls started again and this time...this time Dean left me. He left in the middle of the night. He’d call about once a week always very cryptic about where he was, and what he was doing. He…” 

“He was trying to keep you safe.” 

John nodded before continuing, “I’ve tried tracking him, but he’s good. I never get very close to finding him, and those times that I do he’s gone within hours. I worried about him, still do, but I always received calls from him about once a week. The last time we ran into one another we had one hell of an argument, and he stopped calling. I wasn’t worried though because I’d call his phone and would always get his personal recording…until now.” 

Watching his dad seeing how nervous and worried he was he stated, “You think this girl has him again, don’t you?” 

“Yes.” 

“Could she overpower him though, dad?” 

“Not physically no but he said that she was able to keep him with her by using drugs and restraints to subdue him. When I found him he wasn’t very coherent. I took him to the hospital. Some tests were conducted and trace amounts of some drugs were found in his system, among them were tranquilizers and sedatives.” 

“Shit!” 

“Yeah… Now do you understand why I’m so worried? Now do you see why we have to find him?” 

“Yes and we will, dad. We will just give me a little time to wrap up some things here first.” 

Nodding he drew out a card and extended it towards his youngest son saying, “I’m going to get a bite to eat. Here’s where I’m staying. I’m in room 228. I’ll see you in a few hours?” 

Sam nodded and watched his dad leave, worry for Dean now overly prevalent in his mind.


	4. Subtle Determination

**Subtle Determination**

Perfect, he was so very _perfect_ and beautiful, so beautiful. Watching him was a pleasure unto itself. He walked with an attitude. He was fire and ice, gentle and harsh. He could stop a woman in her tracks with a simple look, or any man for that matter. Yet he didn’t seem aware of his effect on others. Oh he loved the women, true, but had no idea how appealing he truly was to either sex. 

He was intelligent and tenacious, a challenge to hunt and no doubt a challenge to capture. He had been where he belonged once, and would be again. This time however he would stay. He wouldn’t run off and leave. He’d remain and be watched closely until he accepted their relationship. Once that happened…once that happened all their dreams would come true. It _would_ happen. It might just take a little time. 

Watching him in action was always the most pleasurable…those arms, that body…so fucking beautiful. He was even more beautiful when asleep or resting, challenging or spiteful. He was fierce when he was angry, his green eyes sparking with such ferocity that it made one want to dominate him, reassert control, teach him who was in charge and _show_ him how much was loved. 

He was always resistant to that, to the measures that _had_ to be taken to ensure his safety and gain compliance. He was a hell of a fighter full of so much rage and anger, but it would soon be squelched. He _would be_ tamed. The restraints would be necessary again, of course, and the drugs to keep him calm, to keep him strong. He needed help with that, with his fiery temper and self-destructive tendencies. He would become so frustrated at times that he’d strain against the restraints until his wrists would bleed. Leather restraints with extra padding had to be used after that to curb his self-destructive behaviors. Those had to be dealt with _first_. 

Ah he had something to eat in his hands. He was heading inside probably going to go to bed soon. Good. He looked exhausted, and needed to rest. Waiting for it, for the acknowledgement to come was so difficult, the waiting patiently to be seen. Ah he was scanning the parking lot. Good. It was good to be cautious…and then the eyes, his beautiful fucking eyes halted remaining riveted to the spot before he turned and went inside… 

Oh yes I’m here. I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere. I’ll keep you safe. I’ll watch over you. You just rest. We’ll talk later. I promise you we _will_ talk later. 

* * * * 

Climbing into the cab of his father’s truck felt odd to him. As soon as he settled in the seat he felt four years old again. Shaking his head he forced his mind off the past and focused it on the present, on finding Dean. He recalled the day he left for college. Dean had stopped him before he climbed into the taxi to wish him luck and nervously fished a phone out of his pocket. He was surprised when Dean gave it to him simply saying that it was ‘for emergencies’ and that his cell was already programmed into it. Then they hugged and he left unable to watch his older brother shrink in the rear view as the cab pulled away. It had been one of the hardest days of his life and one of the hardest things he ever had to do. 

It wasn’t until later that night after getting settled in his dorm room that he pulled out the cell phone and turned it on. He smiled at the picture on the screen. It was a picture of Dean and him together, one of the last to be taken of both of them. Smiling and shaking his head he had then jumped to the call menu and scrolled down the contact list. Dean had programmed in several numbers he knew well: Caleb’s, Pastor Jim’s and Bobby’s among them. As he clicked on Dean’s name he had noticed instantly that the number listed was different than the cell phone Dean always carried with him. Tears had pierced his eyes then as he had realized that Dean purchased a separate phone with a number that only he would have. He had declared it was for emergencies and he knew that Dean would never go anywhere without it. No matter what time of day or night it was he’d always have that solid connection to his older brother. It made him feel a hell of a lot better than he had when leaving Dean behind as a cab took him in the direction of his new life. 

Shaking his head as the memory faded he glanced over as his dad climbed into the driver’s seat. Once settled he turned and asked, “Ready, son?” 

Hesitating for several moments before drawing in a calming breath he nodded managing a tight, “Yeah, dad, let’s go,” before falling silent again. It was a struggle but he managed to temporarily shove all his ill feelings towards his dad deep down inside knowing that they would have to be dealt with at some point in time. They still had a lot they needed to discuss, a lot to talk about and deal with before they could form the easy alliance Dean always seemed to have with their father. For now though their main focus _had_ to be Dean, so momentarily pushing the tension, anger and bitterness aside Sam forced his mind to the present, to Dean and trying to figure out just where in the hell he was. 

* * * *

The phone rang loudly, shrilly, drawing him from a half sleep. He reached out of habit for his cell phone. Drawing it before him he flipped it open and held it up. Shaking his head he tossed it onto the bed before turning to rest the hotel phone out of its cradle. Drawing it to his ear he mumbled a soft barely audible, “Hello…” that was met with dead silence. He waited expecting the hotel receptionist to speak or an automated voice to come over the line. When neither came to him he said hello again, hung up the phone and rolled over in bed letting his eyes slip shut once more. Not even five minutes later he was jumping up in bed gasping as the shrill ringing began again. Waiting for his heart to stop racing in his chest he snagged the phone up and held it to his ear again saying, “Hello?” 

There was nothing but dead silence on the other end. Angry now that he was again interrupted he demanded, “Who the hell is this?” and silence answered him. Cursing he hung up the phone and glanced at the clock: 2am. Who the fuck would be calling him at 2am in the fucking morning? 

Grumbling he settled back in bed beginning to relax when the phone rang again. Snatching it up he snapped, “It’s the middle of the night. Stop fuckin’ calling me!” and slammed the phone down tensing as it rang again. Turning on the light he grabbed it from the nightstand and drew it to his ear ready to snap again when he heard the heavy breathing on the other end. 

Glancing at the clock and then at his cell phone resting on the bed he paled realizing suddenly just who was most likely on the other end. He immediately breathed a sharp tense, “Shit!” into the phone before slamming it back into its cradle. Now fully awake he jumped as the phone began to ring again and this time yanked the cord from the wall before jumping out of bed and racing to the door to ensure it was still locked and bolted shut. He then glanced towards the windows relieved to see the curtains firmly drawn closed. 

After assuring himself that he was at least momentarily safe he began to gather up his meager belongings and shove them into his duffle bag. Grabbing a pair of jeans he quickly pulled them on before running into the bathroom to see if he had gathered all his supplies from there. Once in the room again he quickly threw on his shoes and a t-shirt before grabbing his duffle bag and racing for the door halting as he suddenly realized he was forgetting his phone. 

Running back to the bed he anxiously ripped at the covers drawing them off of the bed as he searched for his phone. Cursing when he couldn’t find it he felt his fear escalating and began mumbling that he was wasting too much time. He HAD to move. 

Desperate now he pulled at the pillows next sighing in relief and hanging his head to regain control as his fingers closed around the cool slick surface of his phone. Relieved he shoved it into his pocket, snatched his keys off the table and headed for the door halting at it as paranoia struck. What if…? 

Shit, could they have made it to his room yet? What if he opened the door and… Damn it! He _couldn’t_ stay here. He _had_ to leave. He had to! Shaking his head he drew in several calming breaths before settling. He slid a cursory glance around the room assuring himself that he had gathered everything than carefully undid the bolt on the door, his hand shaking violently as he did so. Closing his eyes he tried to relax mentally telling himself there was nothing to worry about. He’d be fine. Now wasn’t a good time to panic. 

Nodding to himself he slowly eased the door open and cautiously scanned the hallway. It was completely empty. Closing his eyes again he drew in a calming breath trying to convince himself he was alone, that no one was out there waiting to attack him and stepped cautiously into the hallway. Another cursory glance up and down the length of it ensured him he was alone and he began to make his way towards the exit. Once in the lobby he felt more relieved seeing three other people there, all on duty. The addition of people helped to ease his mind and relax him enough to think of what to do next. 

Scanning the area again he carefully headed for the door stepping into the cold night air and pausing to glance around again fully aware that his pursuer could be _anywhere_ and wondering, not for the first time, if this wasn’t the stupidest idea he’d had in a long time. He was at a loss for what to do though. If he stayed at the hotel he could be in danger. If he went to his car he could also be in danger. He had to move. The longer he stalled the closer he was to being apprehended by the psychopath who was stalking him. 

He squinted as headlights caught his attention and felt his heart rate triple in speed before releasing an exasperated sigh of relief as a blue Toyota Camry drove by. Damn it, he couldn’t do this! Shaking his head he abruptly turned towards his car and began to walk with more confidence than he had before, but the closer he got to the Impala the more hesitant and nervous he became. 

He stumbled halting as his eyes settled on his windshield…and tucked under the wiper blade was… 

“Oh no, oh shit…!” 

A white envelope… 

Halting he glanced around making another sweep of the area. All seemed quiet and calm so swallowing hard he approached the car slowly making sure to scan under it and glance into his back seat before retrieving the envelope. It burned in his hands and he wanted nothing more than to toss it, but he had to keep it…it was evidence and he had to do _something_ to stop it all. 

He carefully unlocked the car door before haphazardly tossing his duffle in the passenger seat then sliding into place behind the steering wheel. Turning on the car he cautiously pulled out of the space and made a left out of the hotel parking lot glancing at his rear view to assure himself that he was alone and for once grateful that very few cars were on the road at 2am in the morning. It would make spotting a tail all that much easier for him. 

Driving he tried to think of where to go next. He had to disappear again. His original plan had been to drive to Las Vegas and not stop until he got there, but he had been tired and driving had taken longer than expected due to unforeseen car trouble so he risked it and pulled into the hotel for the night. He was certain he wouldn’t be found…he had been wrong. Now he had to ditch yet _another_ set of ID’s and purchase more damned tickets to throw up false trails, and this time he’d make it look more convincing that he was traveling via bus or heaven forbid planes. He’d have to purchase a garage or storage place that way when he was tracked again the addition of a storage place might convince his pursuer that he was no longer traveling by car. It was a long shot but what other choice did he have short of driving into the middle of no where? 

Shaking his head he drove onward not stopping until he had to get gas. It was then he opened the letter and discovered it was yet another veiled threat. Cursing, he climbed back into his car and began to work on setting into place more false trails. He also decided that it just might be time to visit Ellen.


	5. Among the Missing

**Among the Missing**

They had been on the road for several days now. Both randomly trying Dean’s cell phone numbers over and over only to be greeted with bitter disappointment as they got the message telling them the phones were disconnected.

They weren’t sure where to even begin looking, so John had settled on tracking some old hunters who knew Dean to see if they had heard anything. As usual no one knew anything. It was as if Dean Winchester no longer existed, which proved very disturbing and nerve wracking for the both of them.

Traveling with his dad was frustrating as well. He had to constantly use self-control to keep from snapping at the man, especially when he’d start asking questions about Jess. He lost track now of how many times he had told him that Jess was not an open topic of discussion. His dad still tried though, and he found the only way to stop the annoying tirade of questions was to ask him about what had happened the last time he had spoken with Dean. His father would fall silent then simply stating that they had had a huge argument that ended badly.

When he had first heard about the argument he had been surprised. Dean was always the perfect soldier. He’d always follow their father’s rules and commands without question. It used to piss him off how Dean would place so much trust, so much faith in their father’s words. He had always wished that Dean would find the strength to tell their stubborn father no, but never expected it to happen…apparently he had been wrong.

As he caught sight of the gas station up ahead on the right he was relieved to hear the turn signal click on. Finally they were stopping! He was tired of sitting cooped up in the truck and needed some distance. The moment his dad shut off the truck he was out the door and heading towards the store exceedingly grateful for the momentary break.

* * * *

He had driven through the night pushing himself to make it to his destination, relieved when he finally arrived. He had been greeted by a huge smile and treated to a meal upon arrival. Ellen was happy to see him and pleased when he chose to stay a few nights. He was hoping that here he could get some much needed rest, be able to relax and not have to worry about being constantly followed. It was a break he desperately needed, and he was exceedingly grateful that Ellen was so willing to help him.

They had met when he started hunting solo. He wandered into her bar after one of his more strenuous hunts. She had stared at him throughout the night as he nursed a beer. He was aware of her eyes on him but chose to ignore her. Needing to be among people for a time he opted to stay in the bar until closing. He didn’t speak to anyone, had in fact stayed to himself. It wasn’t until the last customer left that she approached him telling him idly that closing time was in ten minutes. He glanced at her briefly and nodded before lowering his eyes to the beer bottle again. He heard her walk away surprised when she came back with a second beer and sat it before him. He had looked at her in question and she simply smiled, shrugging as she introduced herself, “Hey I’m Ellen.”

He had returned her gaze but said nothing. Instead of taking the hint and leaving him alone she had asked a question he was unprepared for, “You and your daddy finally part ways?”

“Wha…what?”

“I’d know you anywhere. Your daddy was always so proud of you. He’d send me pictures. I don’t know why. Perhaps he just needed someone to listen…”

“Right and who are you again?”

“Ellen and you are Dean Winchester…so now that the formal introductions are out of the way you need a place to stay, Dean? I have a cot in the back. Your daddy doesn’t come around here much since the accident with my Bill so you’re perfectly safe here.”

“Bill?”

“My husband…he was killed on a hunt with your father several years ago.”

“I’m sorry.”

“John’s not been around since. Haven’t seen any of you in a few years…heard about you though. You followed in your daddy’s footsteps just like he said you would.”

“Yeah…”

“And how’s Sam? He still hunting or…”

“Nah he’s in Stanford.”

“Stanford?”

“Learning to become a lawyer… He’ll do it too. Sammy’s the smart one.”

She had reached out then and ruffled his hair softening her voice as she stated, “So are you Dean, so are you. You need to believe that.”

“Yeah well…”

“So you in the mood for a pool game…?”

“Uh what…?”

“Unless you’re afraid I’ll beat you, of course…”

“Lady, I’ve been hustling pool since I was a kid…”

“Then you’ll have no problem beating me in a game, will you Dean?”

He had smiled then and accepted her invitation. Ever since that night they kept in contact. No one knew he had met Ellen, least of all his dad. He had sensed there had been some bad blood between them so he never pushed it, and never spoke of his connection to her with anyone. He was glad he had met her that night. If he hadn’t he’d have no where to turn. Pulling up to the Roadhouse felt so much like coming home, and he always looked forward to that.

Several days later he found himself sitting at her bar in his usual seat with his car stashed in the back out of sight and nursing a beer. Ellen approached him asking, “How are you doing, Dean?”

“Um good, good…”

She nodded before continuing, “Dean, what’s going on with you?”

“Nothing…”

“Tell me the truth, Dean.”

That brought his head up gazing at her he opened his mouth to speak when she cut him off, “Been hearing some things about you.”

“Things…?”

“Yeah…”

“What kind of things, Ellen?”

“Enough to know that they’re lies.”

“What?”

“But others, those who don’t know you real well may believe them and…”

“And…?”

“It could prove dangerous to you.”

“Dangerous? What the hell, Ellen?”

“Someone’s after you, Dean, someone who’s trying very hard to ensure you have no allies. Why? What’s going on?”

He broke eye contact before muttering, “I don’t know, Ellen.”

“You’re lying.”

Again he looked at her before turning away. She then abruptly changed the subject, “Your dad called.”

He tensed before managing, “Oh yeah, what’d he want?”

Ellen picked up on his tension immediately and again wondered what was going on. Shaking her head she answered, “To know if I’d heard anything about you…”

Suddenly defensive and sounding somewhat hurt he shot back, “Did you tell him we met?”

“No, Dean. I told him no, that I haven’t heard anything.”

He relaxed almost immediately before further inquiring, “How’d he take it?”

“He’s worried about you, Dean, says he hasn’t seen or heard from you in over two months, said he’s going to Sam.”

Dean lifted his head higher in response to that before saying, “Sam’s at Stanford.”

“Yes I know.”

“Do you think he will…?”

“Will what Dean?”

“Recruit Sam…”

“If he hears nothing from you… Yes Dean I do. You might want to call him.”

“No, no I’m not calling him.”

“But why…?”

“It’s too dangerous.”

“For you or for him…?”

Dean’s only answer was to stare intently at her for several moments. He then lowered his gaze and ran a hand absentmindedly through his hair before saying, “Thanks for letting me stay here a few days, Ellen.”

Noting the abrupt change in conversation Ellen chose to play along. John had told her on the phone that he and Dean had had one hell of an argument before he had disappeared, which would explain Dean’s sudden defensiveness. They _never_ fought. Dean and his dad were both extremely close. The argument no doubt left some open wounds that had yet to heal.

Shaking her head to silence her wandering thoughts she pinned him with a knowing look and asked, “Are you sure it’s safe…to stay in one area too long?”

“What…what do you mean?”

“Come on, Dean, I’m not stupid. You’re on the run from who I’m not sure, but it’s obvious.”

“I…”

Shaking his head he fell silent again before lowering his gaze and staring blankly into his beer bottle. Ellen softened her voice before gently prodding, “Do you need some more ID’s, Dean?”

He glanced up and she smiled before nodding and saying, “I’ll have Ash work on some. You go ahead and try to get some rest, okay?”

He continued to watch her before nodding and uttering, “Thanks Ellen. Thank you for…for everything.”

“Sure thing, sweetie…”

It was several days before she asked him about his father and their argument. He was hesitant at first to answer questions but then revealed it had been about Sam and his decision to go to Stanford, which had escalated to them tossing barbs at one another and led to Dean storming off. Upon being urged to call his father again Dean firmly replied ‘no way in hell’ and threatened to take off and never look back if she dared tell him where he was. She knew that Dean had little in the way of places where he could go and not have to worry about John Winchester or the person apparently after him, so she acquiesced and changed the topic. She was caught off guard when Dean had asked her about the manila envelope propped near the cash register behind the bar.

He had watched her for several moments before asking, “Ellen what’s that?”

“What?”

“Manila envelope…”

“Oh…um I was doing some research.”

“On?”

“Possible werewolf in the area…”

“Werewolf…? Mind if I…?”

She snagged the envelope off the counter and offered it to Dean saying, “Not at all… It’s yours if you’re interested I…”

Dean opened it and looked through it commenting, “It’s thorough. You put this together?”

”Yeah…”

“You did good…”

“Bet you tell that to all the girls…”

Dean smiled then and Ellen was thrilled to be the one to place it there. The man rarely smiled just like his dad. The Winchesters were a stubborn breed who kept their emotions usually firmly rooted BEHIND a mask. Dean was much like his daddy in that way though Dean’s eyes were much easier to read, his non-verbal cues so much easier to decipher. He wasn’t as closed off as his dad, but still hid his emotions better than most.

Shaking her head she commented without thought, “You’re so much like your daddy, Dean.”

He jerked his head up and stared agape at her before responding with, “No, no that’s Sammy. Those two are so damned alike. I think I’m more like my mother.”

Ellen smiled and gazed at him for a time before revealing, “You look more like her than Sam does.”

Dean blushed but didn’t understand why that comment made him react in such a way. He lowered his head and focused on the folder before him. Ellen nodded and off-handedly stated, “Maybe you are more like your mother, after all…”

Dean didn’t respond just continued to leaf through the loose papers gathered in the folder. It was enough, Ellen dropped the topic completely settling for, “So you interested? Shouldn’t be a difficult case… Track it, kill it then leave...”

He hesitated before muttering, “Yeah,” and thinking about all the cases that looked simple and were anything but, still he wanted something to keep his mind off things, a distraction and perhaps this hunt was it. Nodding he said he’d take it and told her that he’d be heading out in the morning. He had also stated that he’d call her once the hunt was over…

Dean never called her back, and Ellen went from being worried to nearly panicking knowing that Dean wouldn’t just leave without first calling. Something had gone wrong, and she couldn’t find him. He wasn’t answering his phone, and she didn’t know who else to call. Sadly she had to accept that Dean Winchester was now among the missing.


	6. Unexpected Guest

**Unexpected Guest**

He had been running for longer than he could remember, struggling to remain one step ahead of his pursuer and knowing if he were caught he would become trapped with no escape. He had been lucky, very lucky, to even make it this far. He was exhausted, thirsty and confused. He could remember only the barest facts about the hunt that turned suddenly very bad. He had quickly gone from the hunter to the prey and had no idea why it had happened, _how_ it had happened. He had been so careful. Hell, he had been careful to the point of obsession but none of it mattered for he had quickly lost his hold on the situation.

Shaking his head he dove into the underbrush certain he could hear movement not far behind. As he lay on the cool damp earth he focused on drawing in a calm shaky breath knowing that he couldn’t remain on the ground like this. Sure he was hidden out of sight but not for long. He had to move again. Closing his eyes he pressed his forehead against the cool earth biting back a moan of pleasure as it soothed him, momentarily driving back the burning heat of his flesh. His head began to throb in time with his heart beat and his ears began to ring loudly. Squinting to try and see better in the dark he was aware that he had to move. Carefully pushing off from the ground he listened closely. Upon hearing nothing he darted off in the direction he had been running earlier cursing the loudness with which he made his escape. Grass, weeds and sticks slapped and grabbed at his ankles marking his escape route, briars dug and carved into his flesh drawing blood to the surface and making it bead up on his skin. His breath was now coming in short gasping pants, the sweat against his skin making him colder as the cool night air settled further around him. The sounds of crickets flared his ears overly loud in the otherwise quiet night. He didn’t dare stop, didn’t dare look behind him for fear that if he did he’d lose the small advantage he had momentarily gained.

He ran fast and hard constantly panning his vision across the dark forest that surrounded him thankful that there was a bit of moonlight to guide his way. It wasn’t much but made it slightly easier to make his desperate escape. Forcing his legs to continue moving he tried to silence his racing mind and focus on the present. He _had_ to get away. He had no choice. It was either run or die. The consequences of failure were much too high.

Spotting a clearing up ahead he charged at it unprepared when he was suddenly bodily tackled and flung to the ground rolling out of control in a sickly spiral before his body slammed painfully into a nearby tree. He arched in pain automatically reaching towards the source only halting when he heard the approach. Instantly he was forcing himself upright managing to get into a crouch as he wearily eyed his attacker. For a moment all sound fell silent, even the slight breeze he had felt earlier had halted as if the air itself were holding its breath in preparation for what would come next.

Rising slowly to his full height he continued to eye the menacing creature now snarling at him. His eyes briefly lit on the sharp talon-like claws gleaming in the moonlight. Swallowing hard he quickly ran through a list of options ignoring the stabbing pain that lit across what felt like every possible muscle in his back. He had to move or he’d quickly become mince meat, sliced and diced into tiny little ribbons. Shaking his head he quickly slammed a lid on those cryptic thoughts his gaze again settling on the creature standing before him. Waiting for the first move he slipped his hand behind his back and drew the knife from its sheath. Thankful he hadn’t lost it in the unexpected tumble he had just taken. Drawing it to his side he turned the blade outward and waited. He knew he’d have to be cautious when taking the creature out or risk having those deadly sharp claws tear and rip into the skin of his shoulder or leg carving as it went.

Noise to his right briefly drew his attention loud crashing as someone or something was approaching. No doubt the creature before him had a mate. Knowing he wasn’t quite strong enough to take on two of them he opted for getting the hell out of there if it was now even possible. He eyed his target again watching and waiting for an opening. As the creature shifted slightly directing its attention towards the source of the newest sounds he took full advantage of it dashing into the thick underbrush to his left and driving onward.

He could tell the moment the creature realized it had lost its prey as a growl rent the air before the loud crashing of branches, sticks and thistle filled it. He didn’t wait around to see what would happen next instead he forced himself to pick up the pace ducking as he nearly ran smack dab into a large branch stuck directly into his makeshift pathway. He no sooner cleared it and was smacked in the face by another. Damn it, the woods were getting thicker, which meant he was most likely running deeper into them. Shit! The last thing he needed was to get his ass lost out here in the middle of no where while that thing played a deadly game of cat and mouse with him!

Time was his enemy as was his apparent lack of strength and stamina. Cursing he drove himself forward ignoring the loud burning protest of his thighs, the throbbing of the soles of his feet, the tightness in his chest as he forced one harsh breath and then another. His ears began their incessant ringing and his vision was growing spotty and hazy. He was running shit out of luck for if he didn’t soon find a place to hide or a way to escape he would pass out and become easy pickings for the monster on his ass.

* * * *

He had been listening in to his father’s call. Something he didn’t ordinarily do, something he had vowed not to do but as soon as his dad mentioned a woman named Ellen he had become curious. Listening while they talked he sensed that there was a lot of history between them. As his curiosity built he soon became wrapped up in their conversation. As they said their goodbyes he wondered if they had been in a relationship at some point and couldn’t resist inquiring. Clearing his throat and watching as his dad slipped the cell phone in his pocket he softly prodded, “Dad who’s Ellen…?”

Banging his hand against the steering wheel John snapped, “What Sam, what?”

“Who is Ellen? Is she a hunter, a…”

“No, no she’s a friend.”

“A friend…so why’d you call her?”

“To see if she heard from Dean or heard anything about him Sam…”

“But she’s not a hunter.”

“No her bar is full of them though...why this sudden interest in Ellen anyway?”

“You seemed…close.”

“Close…? We had a ten minute phone conversation and from that you ascertained that we were close?”

Grumbling Sam shrugged as he muttered, “Just trying to make conversation is all.”

“Well stop it!”

“Sure.”

Silence fell between them before Sam started again, “So…”

“What?” snapped John, Sam glared at him for the span of a heart beat before asking, “Did she hear anything…about Dean?”

Several more moments passed before John admitted, “She’s never even met him.”

“So why call her then?”

“She runs a bar frequented by hunters, Sam, her husband was a hunter too so she…”

“Knows about us, about what we…you do.”

“Yes.”

Nodding he continued, “What did she say?”

“She hasn’t heard anything.”

Nodding Sam hesitated only a moment before further inquiring, “So when do I get to meet this Ellen…?”

John looked at him then but said nothing. As he returned his focus to the road ahead Sam added, “We’re near her place, aren’t we dad?”

The silence that ensued was broken only by the slight nod that John offered his son in response to his question. Sam grinned at that before suggesting, “So how about we pay her a visit?”

“No Sam, absolutely not.”

“Why?”

“Because… Try that phone again.”

“Why? It’s the same damned message and…”

“TRY IT!”

“Yes sir.”

He dialed the emergency number Dean had left for him for what must be the hundredth time only to hear that same automated response come back, disgusted he tossed it behind him and said, “Still the same and not likely to change anytime soon, so now what?”

“We keep looking.”

“With no leads and no idea where the hell he could be…”

“Have a few more friends out this way I’d like to visit.”

“Why’d we go west anyways? You said Louisiana was the last place you heard of him being and…”

“Because all the people who may have heard something are out here and most don’t use phones.”

“What?”

“They prefer it that way.”

“Ah…’course they do.”

“Sam…”

Shaking his head in response to the rebuff he could hear underlying his name Sam asked, “So where to next?”

“Probably should swing by Bobby Singer’s place…”

“I remember Bobby,” Sam replied with a smile before asking, “How’s he been?”

“Not sure, last time I was there was with Dean and he told me if I ever came back he’d shoot my ass.”

“Pissed him off, did you?”

“Sam…”

It was a short sweet way for John Winchester to say ‘shut up’ using his name, saying it in that tone, so stubbornly Sam complied glancing out the passenger side window and watching the scenery fly by. He was worried about his brother and hoped that he was all right. He kept praying that Dean was safe but felt so unsure all he knew is that they _had_ to find him. They just had to. He was out there somewhere and they would find him. He just prayed that when they finally did Dean would be alive. If he wasn’t, if something had happened to him…he didn’t know what he’d do. He really didn’t want to even entertain the notion. They had to find Dean and they would…even if he had to spend the rest of his life searching to the ends of the earth and beyond.

* * * *

A knock at the door roused him from slumber turning onto his right side he was certain he had been hearing things so he settled again. He started quickly drifting off when the insistent tapping stirred him again. Who the fuck was rapping in the middle of the damned night, and why the hell weren’t they in bed? Grumbling softly to himself he shifted in the bed this time drawing the covers up over his head in hopes that he could silence the annoying sounds once and for all. It was a matter of only minutes before he was sitting up in bed tossing the covers off and rising to investigate.

Reaching for the gun he kept by the bed he drew it into his hand before heading into the living room. As he drew closer to the door the persistent sounds grew softer, quieter. By the time he reached the door the tapping had all but diminished the sudden change in that sound spurring him into action. Once to the door he was unsure of what to expect so he slowly opened it unprepared when it suddenly flew inward groaning on its hinges and banging loudly against the wall. He had little time to react quickly reaching out to catch a sudden armload of his unexpected visitor before they crumpled to the floor.

As the full weight of the limp body fell against him he stumbled and groaned feeling the sudden strain spark little aches and pains all along his legs and lower back. Shit, who the fuck? Focusing, for the first time, on the one who abruptly landed in his arms he gazed in shock as the man softly moaned before tossing his head restlessly thus exposing his face and found himself gazing stupidly at the eldest son of John Winchester.

Drawing the boy further into his arms he held him close carelessly kicking the door shut behind him before beginning to automatically scan and assess his present condition. As his eyes took in the numerous cuts and bruises across Dean’s lean form all he could manage was a sharp, “Shit, boy, what the hell did you get yourself into?” in response. Not expecting to receive an answer or any indication as to whether the boy was even remotely coherent he was surprised when Dean managed to open his eyes and gaze at him dazedly, eyes only at half mast before mumbling, “Bobby, need help…hunt went bad…can’t…can’t be found.”

“Damn boy looks like you got yourself on the wrong side of a werewolf.”

His eyes slid shut before fluttering open again as he forced through ragged breaths, “Don’t…don’t call dad, Sam…please.”

Ready to argue he was startled when Dean grappled for purchase on his shirt managing to grasp a thin bit of the material in weak fingers before forcing out in a harsh strained voice, “Please Bobby can’t know… They can’t know. Car…car needs… You need to hide the car. Please…”

Watching Dean continue to struggle against unconsciousness and fighting just to speak told him all he needed to know about just _how_ serious the eldest Winchester son was in regards to the issue. He didn’t want his dad or brother called. He didn’t want them to know where he was. Shaking his head he quietly reassured, “All right, all right I won’t call them. I haven’t heard from either of them in a long time anyways so…”

“Promise me, Bobby. Promise…”

Nodding he answered, “I promise, Dean. I promise. Now can we get you inside or…” the question went unanswered as he felt the sudden gentle roll and bang of Dean’s head against his chest where he propped it before slipping into unconsciousness.

Shaking his head again he focused intently on Dean’s face worry and concern now vying for attention within. Scanning the interior of his home he decided to settle Dean temporarily on his couch before doing a thorough search of his person. It didn’t take him long to locate the keys to the Impala, along with a silver knife stained liberally with dark crimson blood still wet on the blade. He had fought something, had probably killed it but not before it got a few strikes in on him first. As his eyes again took in the mass of blood splotched and coated across the younger man’s body he wondered how he had managed to make it this far on his own.

Turning, he quickly exited the house and made a bee line directly for the car all the while hating leaving him alone in his present state. As he opened the driver’s side door of the Impala his eyes ghosted briefly over the darker splotches of what he knew now to be Dean’s blood. He tried to ignore the amount that coated the seat, steering wheel and door. Dean had bled out…a hell of a lot and he had somehow managed to drive here of all places. Not for the first time he wondered just how tough the Winchester men were. They were stubborn bastards who simply refused to bow down and die.

Lowering into the seat he started the car softly muttering, “Shit boy,” as his hand slipped off the steering wheel and came back covered in liquid, which Bobby now knew to be blood. Damn it that boy almost got himself killed tonight. Shit! Silencing his thoughts he focused on driving the Impala behind his house and stashing it in an inconspicuous place for safe keeping. Once the car was well-hidden he headed quickly back to the house knowing he had to get Dean cleaned, bandaged and out of sight as quickly as possible, for where one Winchester was the other two would soon follow.

Entering the house he threw the lock on the door before approaching Dean and carefully drawing him into his arms. The only indication he received that Dean was still among the living was the soft moans of pain eliciting from his lips as any little movement jarred his injuries. Speaking quietly to the young man he entered the bathroom, stripped him of his clothing and carefully lowered him into the bath tub. Once he relaxed Bobby began to bathe him in preparation to tend his newest injuries.

After bathing him he carefully carried him to the spare room before tending to his present injuries relieved when most of them appeared to have stopped bleeding. He was also pleased to see that some of the color had returned to Dean’s face. Further relaxing he set about meticulously cleaning and bandaging each injury listening closely to Dean as he breathed and thankful that the man seemed to be sleeping through the worst of it.

Once done he settled Dean more comfortably on the mattress before beginning to dispose of the evidence that he had even been there. It wasn’t long before his phone began to ring. Closing his eyes he carefully answered it squeezing them tighter shut as the voice he knew would be on the other end reverberated to him. Swallowing hard he drew in a calming breath before settling his gaze on Dean and listening as his father spoke to him. When the phone line went silent he cursed knowing that in order to keep Dean’s presence in his home secret he’d have to first move him to a safer location and then do a more thorough job of cleaning up the evidence.

Grumbling he approached the bed before carefully working his arms beneath Dean’s inert form and drawing him close. He shifted Dean in his arms relieved when his head gently rolled against his chest. He then carefully carried Dean to a temporary location once again glad that he had decided to create the ghost proof room on his property, and that very few even knew of its existence. Once inside he approached the lone cot in the room and carefully deposited Dean atop it. He then retrieved several covers and draped them over the young man fussing over him as he did so. Once he had Dean settled he watched him a few moments glad that their little trek from the house hadn’t seemed to of disturbed Dean’s rest.

Sighing he knew he’d have to wake him and hesitated only briefly before reaching out to gently shake him. Dean was very slow to stir so he tried calling his name to elicit more of a response, “Dean? Dean…”

He roused slowly mumbling a sleepy ‘yeah’, which prompted Bobby to further encourage, “Wake up, Dean.”

Eyes fluttered struggling to open then focus on him as Dean managed a quiet, “Wha…what?” in response that made him feel like a complete and utter ass. Shaking his head he spoke again, “Look Dean I know you’re tired and don’t want to wake up, but I need you to. I need you to listen to me.”

Dean reacted by slipping his tongue over his bottom lip before croaking out, “Bobby…”

Certain he had Dean’s attention now he informed, “Your dad and brother are heading here…”

Eyes snapped open and Dean bolted upright in response screaming and grabbing at his side as it flared in pain. Bobby cursed before gently pushing Dean back down scolding, “Damn it, boy, you’re going to start your injuries to bleeding again.”

Frightened eyes settled on him briefly, the mask Dean was so good at keeping in place slipping due to weakness. Bobby shook his head and continued, “I moved you. You’ll be safe here. I’ll come check on you in a bit, but right now I need you to stay here and be patient. If you don’t want them to know you’re here you have to do that for me. Can you?”

Dean nodded before latching onto Bobby’s arm and whispering, “Please, Bobby…”

Continuing he asked, “Do you need me to get you more blankets?”

“No just…keep them out.”

Nodding he promised before urging Dean to rest. Once he assured himself that Dean would be all right he headed back to the house and quickly eliminated the rest of the evidence that anyone had been to his home.

It wasn’t long after that when John Winchester appeared at his door sporting haunted eyes and with the youngest Winchester in tow. He looked like shit and before Bobby could stop himself he voiced that thought out loud, “You look like shit, John.”

“Yeah, thanks. Can uh…can we come in?”

“Sure. Sure. Come in.”

“Thanks. Sam you…?”

“Got it…”

John nodded looking much older than his age worry lines creased deeply into the planes of his face. He knew what they were from but still asked, “So what brings you here? Need some supplies…?”

“Nah, information Bobby, I need some information.”

He glanced at the youngest Winchester noting similar tension present in him and urged, “Why don’t you two have a seat at the table. I was just getting ready to eat.”

Watching them settle he grabbed a few beers from his refrigerator calling himself every name in the book for even extending that offer, but knew if he hadn’t then John Winchester would become immediately suspicious since he _always_ , out of habit and knowing that John’s boys didn’t eat enough, would extend such an invitation. He only hoped that Dean would be all right where he was and not need anything while he placated and played the normal host.

After they finished eating Bobby asked, “So staying the night?”

“No. No. We have to keep moving.”

“Ah…”

John pinned him with a gaze opening his mouth to speak only to close it again before brushing a hand haphazardly through his hair. Sighing heavily he lowered his hand to his beer bottle and began to pick at the label with his thumb his gaze now focused solely on the task.

Bobby waited allowing John to mull over what he wanted to say. He knew John would speak. It would just take a little time. Continuing to watch him, he could hear Sam now moving about in the other room. After several more minutes John started to speak, “Bobby, have you…? Dean’s missing. He’s… Have you seen him lately?”

He glanced up as the youngest Winchester entered the room before taking a seat beside his father looking at him expectantly, waiting, with the slightest tinge of hope burning in his eyes. Lowering his own gaze he shook his head wondering how he had gotten himself into this mess in the first place. Swallowing hard he lifted his gaze again as he informed, “No, John. I’m sorry. I haven’t seen Dean in years.”

Nodding he continued, “Have you heard any…rumors about him? Any of the hunters talk about him? Anything…?”

“No not in about six months… John, what happened?”

John’s response was to cover his face with his hand rubbing at tired eyes.

Sam spoke then, “We think something’s happened to him. His cell phone’s been disconnected…”

“Disconnected?”

“Yes, no longer in service and no one seems to have any idea where he could possibly be.”

“He hasn’t called or…?”

John spoke then answering, “Not in about three months…”

“Three months, he’s been gone three months and you’re just now looking for him?”

“Bobby the last time we were together…it ended badly. He left, went on his own after that. He called about once a week but then stopped.”

“Maybe he needed time…”

“Which was what I thought too, but then I made a call last week and got a message that his phone is no longer in service.”

“So maybe he lost it or forgot to recharge it… I don’t know.”

Sam spoke then replying, “No the phone he gave me, the _number_ he gave me was an emergency phone. I tried it. It’s also disconnected.”

“Dean wouldn’t cut off his only connection to you…at least…”

“No you’re right, Bobby, which is why we think something’s happened to him. It would help immensely if you could remember _anything_ you might’ve seen or heard about Dean in the last few months.”

Lowering his gaze he shook his head as he thought of Dean. Hesitating only a moment more he answered, “Nothing…”

_…except that I’m harboring him in my panic room right now…_

Shaking his head again he continued, “Sam, I haven’t seen your brother in over two years…”

“Calls, has he ever called…?”

“No. Never…”

“Never?”

“Well not in a long time, Sam.”

“Oh,” the sadness in that simple reply stabbed at Bobby’s heart and for a brief moment he entertained the notion of telling Sam the truth, but then he looked at John, heard Dean’s painful plea not to tell them and apologized, “I’m sorry. I can’t help you.”

Sam was first to respond saying, “That’s okay Bobby…thanks.”

John spoke then rising to his feet before continuing, “You’ll let us know if you hear anything?”

“Sure thing, John…”

“Thanks. We need to be moving out then.”

“You sure you don’t want to stay the night? I’ve got some extra beds and…”

“No Bobby, no we have to keep moving.”

“Where to now…?”

“Retrace his steps, try to figure out where he could’ve gone, track down some old contacts… Hopefully something will turn up.”

“Best of luck to you, and John…let me know when you find that boy.”

“Sure will.”

Sam offered another, “Thanks Bobby,” before the two headed out the door.

Bobby held his breath not releasing it until he heard the truck engine fire up. As the sound of tires rolling over gravel came next he knew that they were leaving and had to use all the self-control he could muster to remain there long enough to ensure that they were actually _leaving_. After several tense moments he sent a quick prayer above and headed out to check on Dean.

* * * *

A week later Dean was up and able to move about, albeit slowly… He kept telling Bobby he had to leave but continued to stay. John called only two times since their last discussion, which was a relief to him. Watching Dean now he could tell the oldest Winchester boy was still in a decent amount of pain and softly inquired, “Do you want something for the pain, Dean?”

“Nope, no, I’m good.”

“Well at least sit down and…”

“No Bobby, I have to get going. I can’t…stay here. As much as I’d like to I just can’t.”

“Well at least give yourself a few more days to heal before heading back out again. You won’t be able to run very far if you’re too injured to do so.”

Dean’s head jerked up in response to that, squeezing his eyes shut against the sudden pain the action invoked. He waited several moments before asking, “What do you mean by _run_ , Bobby?”

Silence was his answer before Bobby admitted, “I saw it, Dean.”

“Saw _what_?”

“When I was patching you up I saw it. Now I want to know _why_.”

Dean’s face went suddenly pale, his breath coming in short gasps as he squeezed his eyes shut in shame, his left hand subconsciously moving to his left hip where it began to rub. At that moment Bobby wished he would’ve kept his damned mouth shut, but he had started the conversation, so he’d have to be the one to end it. Unsure of what to do or say Bobby settled for, “So you want to talk about it?”

Hesitating Dean then answered, “Talk about what Bobby?”

“The mark Dean…”

“What…what mark?”

Watching Dean’s left hand rubbing more persistently across the site of the mark they were discussing Bobby softened his voice, gentled it as he answered, “The one you keep rubbing over.”

He thought it wasn’t possible for Dean to become any paler than he already was, but he was wrong as the remaining color leeched from his face. The change was so dramatic that he was already moving towards Dean to catch him should he fall. When Dean recovered he carefully moved his hand away from his hip and drew the arm across his chest instantly placing the other arm there too. Once both arms were in place he turned his back towards Bobby and refused to speak. The silence that preceded the protective action grew stretching thinly in the space between them. After several moments Dean began to speak, “I didn’t ask for it Bobby, never did.”

“I never believed you did, Dean. I just want to know…”

“Why? I…I don’t know myself… Well, I do but I’m not, it… I hate it. It represents…”

Several more moments dragged out before Dean continued, “I was told it was to…that it meant…”

Bobby approached wanting to offer him comfort but held back allowing Dean the space he needed to continue. After several more moments he did, “I…”

“When did it happen, Dean?”

“Over a year ago I…I’ve been on the run ever since.”

“So the reason your phone numbers no longer work…”

“Is because I disconnected them...”

“Why? I mean Sam…”

“To protect him, Bobby… I can’t be found. They can’t find me. It’s too dangerous.”

“But to cut them both off especially Sam…”

“I had no choice. I was being tracked. I had to destroy the phones or risk being located.”

“But…?”

“I just…I have to keep running, keep hiding, keep disappearing…”

“Dean, you can’t do this on your own.”

“I have no other choice, Bobby.”

“Dean…”

“I have to keep running.”

“You’ll never stop, you know that right?”

Dean lowered his gaze before replying, “Yes I know, but what other choice do I have? I’m being hunted like the things I kill, stalked like prey. If I stop running…you tell me what am I _supposed_ to do?”

Bobby wished, hell _prayed_ , he had some kind of answer for Dean, but he didn’t and it saddened him greatly. Dean was trapped, caught in a Catch 22. He was damned if he did, and damned if he didn’t. What else _could_ he do short of killing the one after him? Not a whole hell of a lot. Dean could never, would never kill a human being if it could be avoided. Sure he had no difficulty killing evil sons of bitches, monsters but humans, even if they were monsters…that he couldn’t do. He wasn’t a cold-blooded murderer, so sighing he settled for a quiet, “I don’t know, Dean. I honestly don’t know.”


	7. Closing In

**Closing In**

The smile broadened growing into a leer. _He_ was here…finally! The days without him seemed empty and hopeless, the inability to watch him, to keep him close, to keep him near almost smothering in its intensity. He needed to be always within reach. Watching him now the air seemed to thicken, excitement sparked like electricity swallowing, eating up the distance between them. He was so…perfect. He was such a wonderful challenge, so full of life and intelligence, so…so _amazing_.

He had just arrived at the hotel. He no sooner got his room before he was back out walking to the restaurant. As he drew near the light flowed over him like a spotlight highlighting his face and body. He looked good, tired, a little weary but _good_. As he walked passed the limp was noticeable and concern became overwhelming. What had he done? He was injured, but how? He continued onward his gait picking up as he approached the restaurant and entered. He remained inside for a relatively short amount of time before exiting. He was moving slower now, looking more weary and tired.

“You need to be resting. What happened to you, and why do you walk as if in pain?”

Watching from the shadows had its disadvantages. There was no comfort that could be extended from them. No words that could be spoken. No physical contact could be made only watching, observing and studying. It was a hard existence but well worth it for it would soon come to an end as the beautiful man surrendered, fell into arms eagerly waiting to catch him, landed against the one he belonged to body and soul, carried, whisked away where they could be alone never to be bothered again by the outside world. Pity about the necessary usage of restraints though, a shame he wouldn’t come willingly, but once he was back where he belonged all would come in time, including his love. Oh the pleasure and excitement of that moment was so worth looking forward to, so damned worth it to have him where he belonged once and for all.

He paused hesitating in the hotel parking lot his eyes carefully sweeping the lot before the gaze was directed further. He tensed his eyes settling, staring, shock awash across his face as he spotted the one watching him so intently. A tingle of pleasure traveled like a shock wave as his face grew pale in the moonlight…

“Oh yes I’m here. I’ll always be here for you. I’m not leaving. No, I’ll never leave you, never. We’ll be together soon. We’ll be so close. You’ll see me then and you’ll surrender to me. Oh yes, you will. It’s time to go, for now, but I’ll be back. I’ll be back for you. I promise you _I’ll be back_.”

* * * *

He had arrived late at the hotel grumbling as he approached the Impala, unlocked the trunk and drew out his bag. Tossing it over his right shoulder he lugged it up to his room, quickly fishing out his key before unlocking the door and tossing the bag on the bed. Once settled he decided to grab a bite to eat and quickly exited the hotel room.

It was dark out now the parking lot lit up solely by pole lights spaced evenly apart from one another. The lot was all but deserted. It was off season so of course few rooms would be occupied. Shaking his head he began to cross the lot noting how the lights reflected off the damp pavement. Shrugging he allowed his mind to wander as he took in the warmth of the air and the calmness of the night. His senses were still on alert, but he took a moment to just relax.

Turning he was surprised to see a small dog come barreling after him followed quickly by a young woman yelling a name incessantly. Before the dog reached him the woman had her hands on the leash apologizing profusely. Dean held his hands before him in a gesture of surrender offering a warm smile as he said, “No harm done.”

Returning his smile she thanked him before heading back to her room. Dean watched her go. Once she was inside he turned towards his own room and halted, freezing in his tracks as a niggling sense of danger ricocheted up his neck. Something was wrong. He hadn’t survived so long ignoring his hunter’s instincts and didn’t intend to start now. Swallowing hard he carefully scanned the length of the parking lot searching for anything out of the ordinary. When nothing seemed amiss he began to relax only slightly before extending his scanning to the road and the restaurants beyond. Carefully scoping the area he couldn’t help but ignore the strange sense of being watched and as that sense settled around him he was certain he knew just _who_ was watching him. Shit! He had to go!

Swallowing hard he focused on calming his breathing his eyes lighting on the vehicle across the road with the interior lights on in the front. Trying not to let that bother him he brushed it off. People always turned on their interior lights at night, especially when sitting outside a restaurant. He was getting upset over nothing. Shrugging he tried to brush it off but as the headlights suddenly turned on Dean found himself squinting and raising his arm to block it. Swallowing hard he felt his palms sweating as he realized with dread that he had been found…again. Damn it! He had to leave!

“Shit!”

How had he been located this time? He had been so careful, so cautious but all his precautions, all the meticulous plans he had set into place meant nothing now. He had been spotted again and that meant that he’d have to leave. If he dared to stay around he’d never get away again, but what bothered him more than anything at the moment is why they weren’t moving. He had been spotted so why wasn’t he fighting for his life, for his damned freedom right now? Why was he still alone in the lot?

He tried to study the vehicle but the blinding headlights made that damned near impossible. Directing his gaze away from the brightness he scanned the rest of the lot and spotted the police car sitting off to the left. There was a cop in the area that’s why a move hadn’t been attempted. It would be stupid to do so now, which meant it was a waiting game.

Returning his gaze to the blinding headlights he watched as the vehicle silently pulled out of the parking spot and headed towards the restaurant exit. He froze as he watched the vehicle make a turn relieved when his adversary opted to make a left hand turn instead of a right. They were leaving, but they’d be back soon… He _had_ to leave. He couldn’t remain here. He couldn’t go back so sighing in frustration he waited until he could no longer see the fading lights of the vehicle and quickly entered his room. He didn’t hesitate as he grabbed up his meager belongings before heading to his car. Once inside he started the engine and turned the car in the opposite direction his pursuer had gone in. He had paid for the room for a week, and now wouldn’t be staying in it. Cursing he realized he’d no longer be able to use the ID he had to check in or it would be like sending up a neon sign to his location. He also wouldn’t be resting anytime soon. He needed to place as much distance between he and his nemesis as he possibly could now, which meant setting up more false trails and creating more fake IDs. Shit! So much for resting tonight!

* * * *

Entering the hotel room Sam expected to be greeted by his brother, instead he stood frozen gaping at the made bed and the empty room. He knew beyond a doubt that Dean had left. The room didn’t even look stayed in, so apparently Dean must’ve no sooner arrived before taking off again. Damn it!

Turning he glanced at his dad unable to stop his tirade from eliciting forth, “He’s gone, dad. He’s fucking gone! He left. He had the room paid up for a week and then left just like that. Damn it, why?”

“I don’t know, son, maybe he’s in trouble and is trying to keep us safe. You know your brother. He’s always thinking about keeping _us_ safe.”

“But dad…”

Abruptly cutting his son off John commanded, “Do a thorough search of the room, see if he left anything behind.”

They searched in silence John taking the bedroom while Sam investigated the bathroom. Pausing in his search John scanned the entire room looking, searching for something, anything that could be a possible clue. As his eyes settled on the phone and the pristine white notepad nestled directly beside it he smiled. Approaching the table he drew the notepad into his hands and held it up smiling victoriously when he could see faint indentations on the first sheet of paper. Shaking his head he silently chastised his oldest son before drawing out a pencil and lightly rubbing it across the surface. As if by magic faint almost discernible lines appeared growing darker, sharper, beginning to reveal a number. Continuing to work at it he smiled when his tenacity was met with results: an address. Shaking his head again he pulled the top sheet off and wrote the address down before pocketing it.

Next he drew the trash can beneath the desk out and began to search through it looking for receipts, papers, anything else that would possibly help him to locate his son. The search yielded nothing, but he still had an address. Turning at the call of his younger son he quickly approached the bathroom hearing a distraught sound coming from him that had him practically sprinting into the bathroom demanding, “What? What is it, son?”

Sam’s response was to hold up several bloody bandages he had found apparently in the trash. John gazed at them for several moments trying to calm the sudden hammering in his chest at the knowledge: Dean was _hurt_.

Drawing in a calming breath he forced himself to relax and study the evidence again. There wasn’t a lot of blood, which was a good thing, but there was a lot of excess bandage, which was a bad thing. It meant he had multiple injuries, very recently received multiple injuries.

Shaking his head John said, “We’ll do a search on local hospitals…”

“Do you really think Dean would’ve been in the hospital, dad?”

Gazing at the bandages in his hands he replied, “No but it’s worth a shot anyways so…”

“So check hospitals…anywhere else?”

“Local pharmacies…”

“For what dad?”

“Possible prescription pain meds…”

“There isn’t a lot of blood…”

“But there are a lot of bandages, which would suggest…”

“Multiple injuries, okay dad, I’ll check.”

“And I’ll check some local maps…see how far he could get in a night. We should check hotels in the surrounding areas too.”

“Think he’d stay here?”

“No.”

“So why check local hotels? How far can he get in a night?”

“Quite a distance…”

“So we check the outer perimeter of that distance and the areas closest here then the middle, how’s that sound?”

“Let’s get started.”

Nodding Sam turned halting as he forced out, “What if we don’t find him, dad?”

The look on John’s face was grim before it grew harsh, lined with determination as he stated, “We’ll find him, Sam.”

“But what if…”

“We _will_ find him.”

The last statement uttered so firmly, lined with stubbornness brooked no further argument. Sam nodded watching as his dad exited the hotel room determined to continue the search for his lost brother. They _would_ find him, Sam knew they would. It was only a matter of time.

* * * *

When one drives down an endless road for hours the mind wanders. Sometimes it’s wanted, comforting, relaxing while other times it’s not stirring up long forgotten memories that are better kept buried. His mind wanders like that and sometimes he allows it, while other times he forces it into silence cranking up the radio until it’s so loud that it drowns out _everything_.

Tonight nothing seemed to help distract him, not even his music. He was frustrated, angry, disappointed and tired. He needed to sleep not be running again from the one in constant pursuit.

The cat and mouse game they had been undergoing for over a year was draining and irritating. He always managed to stay at least two steps ahead unfortunately that wasn’t the case this time. There had been no careful planning only a need to crash somewhere, get some sleep and ease back into hunting. Truth be told, he was _still_ recovering from his injuries. He shouldn’t even be on the road again but experience taught him that to stay in one place for too long inevitably led to danger. He hadn’t expected to run into trouble tonight, had in fact been pissed when he spotted the vehicle across the road from his hotel. All it had meant, all it represented was what he had to keep running from. In order to fix it and again create the needed distance from his opponent he’d have to make _another_ change in his habits or risk being found again.

Driving he thought about his options. He could drive all night and stop along the way or he could drive a short distance and stop. His options were limited as he tried to think two steps ahead. What would happen when it was discovered that he had moved on again?

Shaking his head, trying to silence his conflicting thoughts, he focused solely on driving. As exhaustion continued to fill him he knew he’d have to surrender. Cars that were passing him were starting to look like three vehicles instead of one, and several times already he had jerked his steering wheel to avoid cars he was certain were swerving into his lane only to realize that the cars were on the _other side_ of the guard rail. He had to stop or risk wrecking the Impala. If he had been in better condition when he had abruptly left Bobby’s he wouldn’t be having these issues right now. What he needed was a full night of undisturbed rest to relax and recuperate, and he needed to stop _now_. Shaking his head he settled on driving four towns over and finding an overly crowded hotel, complete with parking garage. He could lose his car in that garage and hole up for several days. Hopefully his pursuer would assume that he’d drive as far away as he could possibly get upon spotting them. If they believed he’d create as much distance as possible between them then they would no doubt sit down and calculate the distance one could drive in the hours between his departure and his arrival. It would be easy to triangulate his position doing that, so he had to think ahead opting to remain within the vicinity of the hotel he had been staying at while remaining carefully out of sight. If he were to hazard a guess he’d estimate that he had about three days before he would have to move again. It didn’t give him a lot of time, but it gave him enough.


	8. I Dream of Fire

**I Dream of Fire**

Once to the hotel Dean parked the car and quickly made his way inside. He was utterly exhausted and desperately needed sleep. Approaching the front desk he managed a harsh, “I’d like a room please,” that had the tall blonde looking at him in surprise. He glanced away briefly aware that he had been a bit abrupt and tried again, “Um could I please have a room?”

The woman smiled then and said, “Sure. How many nights?”

“I um… I don’t know yet. I… I’m here on business, you see, and could be called back at anytime so…”

“No problem.”

She went to the computer and told him what was available. Drawing out his wallet he winced quickly clamping a hand over his left side squeezing his eyes shut in pain. Her voice came to him soft persistent as she asked if he were all right. He nodded before managing, “Pulled a muscle… I’ll be fine.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay.”

He handed her the credit card and she looked at it before using it then turning to say, “Mister Collins you’re in room 128.”

“Thanks…thank you.”

Dean quickly turned releasing a choked wince that had him focusing on breathing normally before he was able to continue. He sensed the woman at the front desk watching him and chose to ignore her not wanting to get into an awkward conversation. Drawing in a steadying breath he set his sights on getting to his room determined to find some rest before having to make the decision of a lifetime, and hating the fact that he seemed to be out of options.

Once to the room he drew off his shirt and checked the bandages carefully cleaning the injuries and bandaging them again. He then returned to his door and placed the “do not disturb” sign on the outside of it before bolting it, pulling the blinds down then crashing on the bed. He was asleep the moment his head hit the pillow. Both drained and exhausted from the injuries and the events of the last several hours.

* * * *

Tossing upon the bed he was unaware that he had caught his father’s concerned gaze. He shifted attempting to find a relaxing position but was failing miserably at the task. He had been trying to sleep for over two hours now, but each time he drifted close disturbing images would start flashing through his mind and he’d awake fully again feeling as if he were nodding off during a class instead of nearly finding sleep. He snapped his eyes open glancing at the small green illuminated digital numbers to his right that read “2:30” Shit! He was still awake. Why was he still awake when he felt so damned tired?

Sighing in frustration he arose up to his elbows and fought with the pillows attempting to fluff them up before dropping his head back onto them. Twisting onto his stomach he lay there and watched the clock continue to flash on the night stand, noticed how the numbers faded in and out, and hoped it was a sign that sleep was near.

When he finally dropped off to rest he didn’t even realize it but soon his mind placed him in a dream that seemed more like a movie in a theater complete with muffled voices and a semi lit room different than the one he was already in. In the morning when he awoke he’d call it a dream, except for this one came complete with Dean shouting in anger _“Don’t ignore me, damn it,”_ a flash of someone moving around in the darkened half of that room before they approached Dean, the feeling of fear and dread flooding his senses before icy cold words of another came back in snippets: _just relax…necessary…hold very still…_ And then the scream, Dean’s scream of outrage, anger, fear and pain. Dean NEVER screamed like that, and he jumped awake his heart racing, breath fast, sweat coating his skin, his body feeling as if it were on full alert…and as he closed his eyes flashes of Dean danced through his head. What the hell was going on?

“Sam? Sammy, are you okay? Sam?”

He snapped his eyes open as he gazed into the worry filled eyes of his father and swallowed hard recalling he wasn’t alone. Without thought he muttered, “Okay, I’m okay, Dad. Dream, just a very bad dream…”

“You were whimpering, Sam, calling out Dean’s name… What, what the hell happened?”

“I don’t…I don’t know. Worry I guess. I’m worried about Dean, probably why I dreamed of him. Nothing coherent though. Weird, it was weird.”

“Weird, uh…?”

“Yeah, weird…”

“Want to talk about it?”

“No. No. Thank you though for…for asking.”

Nodding he changed the subject saying, “I’m going to get a shower…you going to be okay?”

It was then that Sam realized it was morning. He must’ve fallen asleep after all. Realizing his dad was looking at him expectantly waiting for him to answer his inquiry he quickly said, “Yeah, yeah I’ll be fine.”

As his dad left the room and the shower clicked on it was then that Sam drew his arms across his chest, pulled his knees up and rocked ever so slightly his mind on his brother and trying to decipher what those cryptic flashes and snippets of words even meant, if anything.

* * * *

He awoke mid-morning glancing at the clock beside his bed trying to figure out where he was and what had happened. As the evenings events slammed into him he jerked upright cursing and doubling over as the pain in his side shrieked in protest. Instantly he was pressing a free hand against it squeezing his eyes shut as he felt warm moisture seeping through. Shit, his injuries were bleeding again. If he kept this up they’d never heal properly!

Shaking his head and grumbling in dissatisfaction he carefully drew to his feet traipsing into the bathroom where he clicked on the shower. He then went to the bathroom before reaching a hand in the shower to feel the temperature of it. Satisfied that it wasn’t too hot nor too cold he carefully eased his shirt off then pants making his movements deliberately slow in order to prevent jarring any further injuries. Once he was fully unclothed he sighed in relief before carefully removing the bandages. Drawing the curtain aside he stepped under the spray of the shower releasing a soft moan of pleasure as the warm water cascaded down over his sensitive flesh.

As he showered his mind wandered and he soon began contemplating what his next move should be. He had been evading his opponent for over a year. Several times they had drawn close, but never as often as they were now. He thought back over his strategies, his safety plans and his recent actions trying to figure out just what he could be doing that placed him on a constant collision course with the one he was trying to escape. What had changed? Why did they seem so much closer to him now than ever before and how was he going to reestablish the safe distance he had maintained for well over a year now?

Sighing in frustration he tipped his head up into the shower water allowing it to run freely down over his face, seeping into his hair before trailing in lazy streams down across his back to drip into the small puddle forming beneath his feet. The caress of the warm water worked wonders for him as it eased his mind, calmed his body and warmed him, with regret he clicked the shower off before stepping out and drying off. Once dressed he returned to the bedroom and settled at the one table in the room drawing out the map he always kept on hand.

Spreading it out across the table’s wooden surface he began to track with his eyes the routes he had taken in the past several weeks. As he studied them all he could come up with was that they were all primarily in the western half of the country. As he studied the map further he focused on California and noted that all the routes were within driving distance of Stanford University. As he realized his error he silently cursed himself for his stupidity knowing his pursuer had narrowed down where he’d eventually journey and probably simply lay in wait for him to appear. Sam…they knew about Sam, had to what else could explain why he was being found so much quicker than ever before?

Shaking his head he came to another decision. He had to head east, maybe by doing so he could throw his nemesis off his trail again. If he failed he didn’t want to think of what the consequences could be. Shivering as those thoughts solidified in his mind he focused his attention on folding the map trying and failing to block out the sudden resurgence of memories now bombarding him. He couldn’t afford to allow those memories, or any memories to surface, especially now when he was still well within range of the psychopath presently stalking his ass. He had to silence them. Biting into his bottom lip he forced his mind to quiet relieved when the momentary distraction of pain in his lip seemed to quell the memories, temporarily staving them off.

Drawing in a calming breath he carefully stood up aware that he was still quivering slightly. Damn it, no! Growling he snatched up the hotel menu and forced himself to focus on the words printed on the page determined to fend off any disconcerting memories from breaking through. As he became aware that he was hungry he relaxed settling on trying to decide just what he wanted to eat his mind now distracted thoroughly by the thought of food.

Once his order was placed he approached the window carefully drawing back the curtain to peer outside unprepared as a memory struck him nearly driving him to his knees…

_“It’s a shame you had to fight me…”_

Squeezing his eyes shut he concentrated on calming his breathing finding it a challenge as he recalled the inability to move his hands as he became quickly aware of what was happening. He remembered being touched gently before being urged to go to sleep, to relax. He had wanted to fight, had yanked against the restraints in an attempt to do just that only to find he was extremely tired. He had tried to make sense of what had been happening only to realize he had been drugged. When he tried to argue he was silenced with an unexpected, unwanted kiss before the drugs took their full effect and rendered him unconscious. When he had next awoke it was only to discover that he was still under the influence of a drug as his vision blurred. He had tried to focus, had tried to make sense of his surroundings only to find that he couldn’t. Nothing had made sense and that feeling of helplessness, that inability to think clearly scared the shit out of him…

The knock at the door had him jolting back to reality and he quickly drew away from the window staring agape at his surroundings his heart racing, pounding in his ears blending and merging with the knock at the door. He had half a notion to remain silent, pretend he wasn’t there, that the room was empty but then he realized just who was probably at the door. He had ordered food and had been waiting…

As he turned to gaze at the clock by the bed he swallowed harder aware that he had lost track of time as the memory had consumed him. Shaking his head to clear it he quickly approached the door drawing in a calming breath before opening it to greet the visitor with what he had hoped was an easy smile. As the woman before him smiled back before extending the food towards him he felt relieved. She hadn’t suspected anything, had in fact believed that everything was completely normal even though he had waited so long to answer the door. Thanking her for the delivery he quickly paid her before closing the door and automatically throwing the dead bolt. He then dropped back first against it as he tried to quiet the wayward thoughts shuffling through his mind. After several more moments he felt calmer and able to relax, able to approach the table before settling down to eat his lunch his mind blissfully blank.

After eating he drew his phone out, opening it he accessed his call menu scrolling down through the numbers in his phone book. He paused at Sam’s and debated. He had to leave the area. He had to head east, and he couldn’t look back for any reason. He would have to forget Sam to keep him safe and out of harm’s way. He’d have to live each day knowing he’d never see his baby brother again and that would hurt like a bitch. Before he always knew that one day he’d see Sam again, but now it was too dangerous for him to allow anyone in. If he maintained contact with his family he would inadvertently place them in the direct line of fire, and he wasn’t willing to do that. He had no choices now. He had to disappear for good or he’d never be free. It would feel like he was abandoning his family, but what other choice did he presently have?

Sighing in frustration he closed his phone only to flip it open and again scroll through his contact list, as his eyes settled on Sam’s name his finger hovered over the “send” button. He paused for several moments before shaking his head and jumping to Bobby’s name. He had promised Bobby that he would call him when he could to let him know where he was and that he was safe. Bobby had made him promise to call every morning and every night. He was seriously worried and wanted to make damned sure that he was all right. Reluctantly he had agreed to do as bid and had bitten back the urge to argue. He wasn’t used to letting someone know his every move, but honestly felt a whole hell of a lot better knowing that if something did happen to him Bobby would be there to help him. It made him feel safer and more relaxed knowing that he could rely on Bobby to save his ass if it ever became a necessity. Softly smiling he depressed the “send” button and waited for Bobby to answer. Once he did he informed him of his present location and told him that he was preparing to head east. He was leaving today and planned to drive through the night until he was well out of range of the one stalking him.

After speaking with Bobby he focused on gathering together his meager belongings and again packing them into the Impala. Once in the car he started it and pulled out onto the Interstate. His next destination was Philadelphia and he figured he’d make it there within a few days. It was a long drive, but he really had no other alternative at the moment, so sighing again he cranked up the radio and let AC DC calm his overtaxed nerves.

* * * *

As his father entered the room Sam glanced up sighing at the look he received. In his dad’s left hand was gripped the sheet of paper he’d torn off a notepad in Dean’s empty hotel room. His dad had told him it contained an address and hoped it would lead them to Dean. The dejected look his father was presently pinning him with told him it was a dead end. Sighing he muttered, “No luck, uh?”

John shook his head tossing the now balled up paper directly into the trash can prompting Sam to say, “Dad…”

John held up a hand and Sam acquiesced simply nodding. Silence fell between them again stretching before Sam spoke, “Have you talked to Bobby since…?”

“Twice, he hasn’t seen him and hasn’t heard a damned thing.”

“Ellen…?”

“Tried her too…same response…”

“So what now?”

“I don’t know, Sam.”

Nodding Sam swallowed hard before speaking again, “He’s out there somewhere, and he’s on the run. He left that last hotel fairly abruptly. Hell, the front desk didn’t even realize he was gone so…”

“So what…? That tells us _nothing_ , Sam, nothing… We need to know his next move. Where would he go? What would he do?”

Sam settled on the bed drawing his right leg up to tuck under his left then lifted his left pointer finger to his lips before speaking again, “He’s on the run. He’s no doubt scared, but knowing Dean he’s more scared for us than himself.”

“Sam, what are you…?”

“Shh, let me think dad.”

John nodded lowering to the opposite bed his head bowed as he listened to Sam work through where Dean might be and nodding when Sam continued, “He knows we’re tracking him…”

“Does he?”

Sam glanced at his dad a bit surprised by that comment, aware that he might be right in the assumption and nodded, “So let’s say he doesn’t know we’re searching for him that means he’s completely on his own and…”

“Sam, he’s been on his own for over a year what…?”

Sam halted his question with a look. Biting it back he nodded and waited for Sam to continue. As Sam spoke again he was unprepared for the comment, “He’ll make a desperate move.”

“What?”

“You said he’s been on the run for over a year, right?”

“Yeah but…”

“He’s probably tired of running.”

“Which means what exactly Sam?”

He held up a finger and John fell silent. After several moments Sam broke it with, “You said you lost track of Dean over three months ago right?”

“Yeah but what…?”

“Where?”

“What?”

“Where did you lose track of him dad?”

“He stopped calling.”

“And the last call was from…?”

“Maine.”

“Maine? Back east then he resurfaced here near…,” Sam fell deathly quiet for several moments before continuing, “He was going to say goodbye.”

“What?”

“Dad he’s preparing to disappear…for good.”

“What? How could…?”

“The last two places you heard of him being were on the east coast then one day he suddenly surfaces in the west. He…he was probably heading out here to see me and…”

“And…?”

Sam lowered his head his voice dropping in volume as he answered, “And say goodbye.”

John shifted tensing and sitting up straighter as he demanded, “What are you saying, Sammy?”

“I’m saying he’s tired. He’s tired of the running. He’s done with it. He’s made his decision.”

“Decision, what decision? What the hell are you talking about?”

“He’s leaving, dad. He’s leaving us behind.”

“What? No he… No.”

Softening his voice he said, “He’s tired of running, dad, and the only way to ensure it stops is…is to cut of ALL previous ties to everyone and everything that ever mattered to him.”

John didn’t like the sound of that at all. Dean was planning to leave, to leave them behind, to forget them all together? No, he didn’t believe that, couldn’t believe that. Dean would never…

Shaking his head, dreading his next question but needing to ask it he replied, “Which means what exactly, Sammy?”

Sam focused on his dad knowing what he _wanted_ to hear but unable to deliver. Shaking his head he responded with, “Us, dad, we’re his final ties. We’re what’s holding him back from disappearing forever. Once he’s ready to break off all ties to everything and everyone then he’s ready to disappear completely. He’ll change _everything_ …probably even sell the car…”

“Why…why would he do that, Sammy, why?”

“Because as long as someone maintains _any_ kind of ties to their old lives they will always be able to be found by someone, the only way to ensure that _never_ happens is to cut off all ties, sever _every_ tie he has to his old life and start all over again…that’s what he’s doing dad. He’s laying the groundwork. He’s ready to shed his old life, shed who he is and become someone completely different.”

“But he’ll die if he does that…”

“He’ll die if he doesn’t.”

“So we’re losing him.”

Sam centered a gaze on his father unable to speak the words he wanted and only able to put voice to one word that sounded like a death writ: “Yes.”

* * * *

He cautiously pulled into _another_ hotel parking lot disappointed that he was just too tired to make a non-stop drive east. He needed to rest. He had tried to fight it even going so far as to stop multiple times for coffee but it was no use. He was ready to go but his body wasn’t, and he knew it was simply because his body was still recuperating from the multiple injuries he had sustained during the werewolf attack. Grumbling he settled on pulling into the nearest, cheapest hotel he could find for a full night’s rest. Once to his room he drew out his phone and sighed in frustration as he dialed Bobby’s number to inform him of his present location. Bobby had been relieved to hear from him, having been worried knowing that he hadn’t been sleeping well lately due to being constantly on the run. Before hanging up Bobby had encouraged him to get some rest and told him to call again before he left the hotel. Thanking Bobby for his help and support he ended the call…then glanced again at Sam’s number. Without thought he hit the “send” button and tensed as the phone began to ring certain that Sam wouldn’t answer when he saw just _who_ was calling him.

It had been months, hell almost a year since he had called or spoken to Sam too afraid that if he did he would place his brother in danger. It had been one of the hardest decisions for him to make: the decision to cut his brother out of his life. He had spent months resisting the urge to call Sam just once and every time he had considered it something would happen that would remind him of just why he couldn’t. Sadly he never provided Sam with any kind of an explanation for just why he stopped calling. He only hoped that Sam would get so absorbed in his new “normal” life that he would forget he even had an older brother to worry about.

Shaking his head he drew the phone away from his ear ready to end the call when he heard a gruff, “Hello…” elicit from the other end of the line. His heart rate immediately sped up as he drew the phone to his ear closing his eyes as he listened to his brother’s voice and realized how much he missed him. Swallowing hard he drew in a haggard breath before managing to force out a tense, “Sammy…,” in reply.

* *

The ringing of the phone drew Sam awake. Reaching for it he quickly flipped it open and drew it up to his mouth mumbling, “Hello…”

_“Sammy…”_

The moment he heard that voice he sat upright in bed his heart slamming in his chest, mouth going dry as he said, “Dean, where are you? Are you all right? I’ve been looking every where for…”

_“Are you alone?”_

Hearing the sound of the door closing off to his left he shook his head answering, “No,” before demanding, “Dean, where are you? Please tell me.”

_“I…”_

John had just entered the hotel room and upon hearing his eldest son’s name being uttered from his youngest son’s mouth he jerked his head up his own heart racing. Without hesitation he rapidly approached Sam gruffly questioning, “Is that Dean? Sammy…”

Before Sam could answer John’s question Dean was speaking again his voice rushed as he said, _“Don’t look for me, Sammy. Please. It’s too dangerous, and I can’t protect you. Please don’t look for me,”_ then the phone line went dead. Sam didn’t think as he yelled his brother’s name, drawing the phone away from his ear to look at the number then muttering, “Pay phone.”

“Are you sure it’s a pay phone, Sammy, or could it be…a cell phone?”

“I don’t…”

“Do you have the number?”

“Yeah but…”

“What, Sammy, what…?”

“How the hell’s that going to help us to locate him?”

Gazing at Sam he opened his mouth to reply then closed it again softly cursing before asking, “Do you still have the number?”

Sam paused glancing again at the ‘calls received’ list and answered, “Yeah…”

“Let me see it.”

Nodding he held the phone out to his father his breath hitching at the sudden emergence of a smile. Tensing in response to the unexpected expression Sam asked, “What…what is it, dad?”

“I’m sure that’s a cell phone number, Sammy.”

“Meaning…?”

“We may have found him.”

Sam’s breath caught again as he was certain he had heard his father wrong, positive that Dean would have called from a pay phone and not a cell phone. Shaking his head he swallowed hard managing, “I don’t think he would…”

“What?”

John held his son’s gaze for several moments waiting for Sam to continue when he remained silent John added, “We need to check it out, Sammy. It could be a lead. It could be the lead we need and…at least it’s _something_.”

Sam sighed nodding before admitting, “It’s all we have, dad.”

The silence that preceded that statement was all they needed to affirm in their minds just how close to the truth it was.

* *

Stupid, so stupid! What the hell had he been thinking? He had called Sam to say goodbye not warn him off. What the fuck! Shaking his head he stormed out into the night drawing in a calm soothing breath of fresh air before settling on getting something to eat. He had called Sam to say goodbye but ended up only warning him. He was an asshole. He was walking out of his brother’s life for good, never looking back…and all he could manage was a warning _not_ to follow him?

Cursing he stopped and closed his eyes drawing a hand to the bridge of his nose where he gently grasped it between his fingers. After several moments he stopped, lifted his gaze and looked around, spotting a bench up ahead he approached and dropped onto it. Once seated he leaned forward and rubbed tiredly at both eyes before propping his head in his hands and asking himself one not so simple question: what was he going to do now?

He had to disappear. He had to leave everything behind. He had to sever all ties to everyone he ever knew, every place he’d ever been. He couldn’t cling to ANY of it. He was tired of running, and the only way he could stop was to re-create himself and become someone new, someone different. It would be incredibly hard to do, but would be worth it if it would give him peace of mind, if it could stop him from having to spend every waking hour looking over his shoulder. It was his last chance, short of faking his own death, to disappear forever, and he had just blown his final farewell to his younger brother on a warning, a damned warning to stop looking for him. He blew it, but what other choice did he have? After tomorrow he would be gone, his old life left behind, his new life ready to begin. He dreaded it, but had no other choice.

Two nights, he’d spend tonight and tomorrow night at the hotel and then? Then he’d board a bus, train, plane, something and get the fuck out of here. He should sell the Impala but he didn’t have the heart to do that so he’d leave her sit at the hotel, say a final farewell and then just leave. She was his final tie to his old life. He’d have to sacrifice the car to begin to live again. It would be hard, but he had no choice. If he didn’t do this, didn’t say goodbye to his old life completely then he’d be found again, and would never be free, never be rid of the stalker that shadowed his every move. He had no choice, this was it.

Shaking his head he lifted his gaze to the heavens above and hoped that he had the strength to make this final move because if he didn’t…

Then heaven help him.


	9. Check Mate

**Check Mate**

As he entered the hotel room he drew to a halt, startled by his visitor he immediately demanded, “Sam, what are you…?” before he was grabbed from behind and drawn back against another. On instinct he drove the heel of his right foot down drawing a yelp from his attacker before feeling a sharp pain piercing the side of his neck. Cursing he drove his left foot down onto his assailant’s other foot feeling the hold on him loosen. He refused to surrender even when he felt the anesthetic effects of the injection slowly working through his body. Within moments he went limp in his attacker’s arms. As he felt his muscles beginning to stiffen and his throat squeeze shut he felt panic rise. Instantly a voice was speaking in his ear telling him to breathe and not resist, reminding him that resistance came with a price. He recognized the voice and though he was terrified he listened focusing on regaining control of his breath and allowing the anesthesia to finish working through him. As he regained control it was then he was able to see his brother who was yelling, cursing their father who was speaking louder now as he informed, “Relax, Sammy, he’s fine. He’s just not able to move.”

_“What?”_

Ignoring the question John carefully lifted Dean into his arms, settling him against his body before carrying him to one of the beds in the room and gently settling him in place atop a red bedspread. Sam was silent behind him, but he heard the distinct click of the gun as it was cocked. Without taking his attention off of Dean he continued to settle him into the bed while saying, “Be careful with that, son. Think twice. I can break his neck in seconds.”

“You won’t…”

“You know that for sure?”

He heard the hesitation before Sam spoke again, “You…you’re the one he’s been running from, aren’t you, dad? All this time I thought it was some girl when it was _you_. Did the girl even exist or did you just make her up to get me to come with you?”

John was only listening about half to his youngest certain that he wouldn’t shoot. He kept his back to him as he began working. He watched his oldest with a keen eye, heard the changes in his breathing and could sense Dean’s fear for his brother, his protective instinct kicking in. He continued to work quickly, efficiently, ignoring the rage he saw flaring in Dean’s eyes and knowing that he was trying desperately to scream, to warn Sam of what was to come. As he finished his task he spoke softly urging, “You need to relax, Dean.”

Sam was speaking again but whatever he had meant to say was replaced quickly with a scream as John turned stabbing out and watching as Sam made a desperate grab for his leg. He watched patiently waiting for the injection to do its work while listening to the now rushed, panicked breath of his eldest. Sam lifted the gun and drew back the trigger before he started to crumple. John waited only a moment longer listening as the gun dropped uselessly to the floor before reaching out to grab his youngest and catch him before he hit the ground. Once he had Sam safely in his arms he spoke again informing, “Relax, Sam, if you fight it it’ll only be worse. Calm your breathing and let me turn you. Your brother’s panicking. He needs to see you, Sammy. He needs to breathe.”

Sam still tried to fight nearly panicking as the drug took effect. As soon as his gaze found Dean’s he began to relax, and John breathed a sigh of relief hearing Dean’s breathing beginning to ease as well. He then smiled saying, “See, son, he’s fine. Now I’m just going to carry Sammy over to the other bed and get him settled before I take care of you.”

He saw the slightest twitch in Dean’s pointer finger and said, “Should probably give you more, but I don’t want your heart to stop and I can’t have you going into respiratory failure.”

Shaking his head he carried Sam to the opposite bed and carefully positioned him on top of the mattress. Smiling he brushed a hand gently through Sam’s hair before softly promising, “I’ll take care of you, Sammy, don’t you worry, but first I need to tend to your brother.”

He then proceeded to pull out leather restraints before approaching and lowering beside Dean. He focused intently on him smiling as he gazed into clear green eyes framed by slightly mussed up hair and richly tanned skin. He slowly scanned Dean’s face licking his lips as he noticed once again just how beautiful his boy was. He offered a soft smile before gently grasping Dean’s pliant right arm and carefully drawing it down along his side. He then began to add padding to his right wrist before returning his gaze once more to Dean’s and saying, “I’m adding padding to your wrists and ankles so they don’t get injured. I seem to recall you have a tendency to fight valiantly against any restraints I use on you. Hopefully the padding will help to minimize any of the damage you might inflict upon yourself.”

The only response he received was Dean’s steady gaze as he remained under the anesthetic’s debilitating effects. Nodding John proceeded to carefully fasten the restraint in place tightening it before checking to make sure it wasn’t too tight then securing it firmly to the bed frame. Looking at Dean again he asked, “How does that feel, son?” and noticed that he seemed upset about something. Understanding quickly filtered in as he stated, “Ah you want to see Sam. Hold on a minute…”

He then approached his youngest and gently turned his head so he was looking directly at Dean and Dean at him then returned approaching his left side before lowering to work on binding the left wrist. He gently started to wrap the wrist in padding then carefully secured a leather strap around it noting the slight twitching in Dean’s left hand. Patting his son on the face he said, “Don’t get your hopes up, son, in small doses it causes only about eighty percent paralysis so you’ll still have some minimal movement.”

He then centered his attention on securing Dean’s legs likewise. Once finished with him he moved to Sam’s side and repeated the process stopping only when he was completely satisfied that he had both boys firmly secured in place. He smiled at his accomplishment jumping as the ringing of a phone snatched his attention. Glancing at the hotel phone he noted it wasn’t ringing and realized that Dean must be carrying one. Returning once again to Dean’s side he proceeded to make a thorough search of his pockets lingering a little longer than necessary at his groin before quickly drawing out the phone commenting, “Guess that’s why I couldn’t track your cell phone. You got a new one…smart son, very smart.”

The ringing stopped only to start up again moments later. John held the phone up as he commented, “Popular today aren’t you, Dean? Let’s see who’s trying to reach you.”

He saw Dean’s eyes shift in his direction and patted his shoulder as he flipped the phone open. It fell silent before starting to ring yet again. This time he looked at the screen and spoke in surprise, “Ellen? How did you meet her? Better yet _when_ did you meet her?”

He received no response to the inquiry, of course he didn’t expect one either. Smiling he scrolled through Dean’s call menu glancing at the people on his contact list. He recognized most of them. Some he was surprised to see, while others he wasn’t. Shaking his head his gaze settled on Sam’s name and the number listed beside it was…

“So you have Sam’s number…or should I say Jessica’s? Did you know it all along, Dean? Did Sammy know you had it? Of course he did, didn’t he?”

He shifted his gaze centering it on Dean before announcing, “You’ve been keeping secrets, boy.”

Dean held his gaze stubbornness and rage burning brightly in their green depths. Holding the phone in his hand he lowered beside his son keeping his gaze pinned to his son’s as he growled, “But for how long…?”

Dean blinked as the phone began to ring again breaking John’s concentration. Rising to his full height he glanced over at Sam checking on him before continuing, “Someone’s getting worried. Let’s see who it is.”

He made a show of watching the LCD panel his eyes going cold as he read the name displayed there. Cursing he snarled, “That fucking bitch I’ll kill her! Why do you have that slut on your contact list, Dean? Did you give her a nice ride? Did she get to enjoy a piece of that fine ass of yours? I bet she did. I’ll fuckin’ kill her just for touching you.”

Turning he saw Sam watching him intently and smiled broader as he informed, “Dean ever talk about me much? Did he ever tell you what happens to all the pretty girls who get between us? No? Pity…”

He watched Sam intently knowing that comment most likely drew a reaction from Dean. He waited several moments before turning around to face his oldest again reading the rage in his son’s eyes. His smile grew cold and cruel as he taunted, “Shh hush, Dean, hush. Relax. It’s too soon for you to speak. We still have a lot of time to kill.”

As if to oppose the statement Dean suddenly tugged lightly against his right wrist restraint. The movement was so slight that if he would have blinked he would have missed it. Shaking his head again he softly informed, “Let’s check on your brother, shall we? Let’s see how he’s doing.”

As John approached his youngest he noted that Sam still hadn’t moved. Nodding appreciatively at the obvious paralysis present in his youngest he gently stroked Sam’s hair saying, “Still and calm…,” before breaking the contact to turn and pin Dean with an intense stare as he continued, “But not you, Dean, never you. No, you’re too damned stubborn always fighting, always resisting. Well, Dean, this is one of those situations where I need you to remain calm, so you’d better start obeying boy.”

The phone interrupted then ringing loudly. John drew it before him and chuckled as he informed, “Ah, it’s Ellen again, so should I answer it this time?”

Lifting the phone to his ear he halted as he noticed Dean’s eyes widen as if he were afraid…or struggling to regain control of his breathing. Damn it! As Dean managed to close his eyes John quickly approached lowering beside him, watching him closely again listening to his breathing. It was ragged and shallow. He couldn’t have that, so he reached out and began to gently stroke Dean’s hair softening his voice as he encouraged, “Relax, Dean. Relax, son, it’s normal. What you’re experiencing is completely normal.”

He received only the slight movement of Dean squeezing his eyes tighter shut and quieted his voice further as he continued, “Focus on breathing, in and out, in and out. Relax yourself. Calm yourself and keep swallowing for me. It may hurt but I _need_ you to do that for me, son.”

After what seemed like hours, but was only mere moments, Dean opened his eyes again. John closed his own in relief becoming aware that he held one of the syringes he had placed on the nightstand earlier in his left hand. The anecdote, he had reached for the anecdote on instinct prepared to administer it if necessary. Easing his hold on it he drew his hand back noticing that Dean was watching him now with a question burning in his eyes. He could almost hear it: _what did you give me this time?_

“Don’t you worry about that right now, Dean, you just remain calm and focus. One of the side effects is difficulty swallowing. Now I need you to remain calm while I check on Sammy. Can you do that for me?”

He received a blink in response and took it as a yes before approaching Sam and noticing that he seemed much less agitated, probably because he could see Dean and as long as he could, as long as they both could, they’d be all right.

Shaking his head he smiled saying, “Inseparable even as kids. You two always needed each other, part of the reason I was so surprised you left Sammy…,” approaching Sam and lowering beside him he reached out gently brushing his hair off his forehead as he continued, “But you’re back now right where you belong with Dean and with me.”

Smiling broader he turned and approached Dean lowering beside him he combed his fingers through Dean’s hair saying, “I missed you, Dean, missed you so much, watched you though, kept a close eye on you. You made it challenging to track you, so good…you’ve gotten so damned good at disappearing. I’m proud of you. I wouldn’t have found you without Sammy’s help. I was desperate, you see. Lost you for over three months… It was pure hell Dean, not being able to see you, to speak to you, to hear your voice, but I found you again. Yes I did. Did you like my presents?”

Dean’s eyes squeezed shut as John continued, “I bought them just for you, and the letters…wanted you to know I was still with you, always your shadow, forever.”

Leaning down he pressed a kiss to Dean’s forehead before softly urging, “Look at me. Look at me!”

Dean opened his eyes trying desperately to will his body to move, trying desperately to speak or do something, _anything_. He focused on his father and tried to pull away when his father turned his head before lowering to kiss him brutally, possessively on the lips. He tried to fight, to scream but all that could be heard was his ragged breaths as panic threatened to consume him. John pulled back snapping, “Calm yourself Dean!”

He rapidly blinked before closing his eyes concentrating on breathing, relieved when he succeeded in calming again. John smiled then saying, “There that’s much better.”

He then carefully turned Dean’s head again so he could see Sam and shifted to allow them to see each other. He then reached out and began to gently stroke Dean’s hair twisting around to look at Sam as he spoke, “Isn’t he beautiful, Sammy?” before rising and approaching his youngest. Once to Sam he patted him on the face then turned smiling as he again focused his gaze on Dean moistening his lips before adding, “So beautiful like his mother. Oh don’t get me wrong. You’re beautiful too Sam, but Dean has her looks. He has her spirit, her fire. Dean was blessed with his mama’s looks while you Sammy, you were blessed with mine. I see her in him, you know. I see her in both of you, but I see more of her in Dean than in you…that’s why I couldn’t help myself, you see. I had been drinking that night, wallowing in loss. You left me, Sam. You left us, and then Dean started talking about leaving too…said maybe we should part, go our separate ways…at least for a little while. I returned early that night, you see, panicked, afraid he’d leave me while I was out. When I saw him standing by the window… The moonlight was catching in his hair. He had turned the lights off, only the light from the bathroom touched the room. The moon was full that night. I remember it like it was yesterday. The moonlight it caught in his hair, you see, lit him up beautifully. I saw her then in him. When he turned to me… I was to him before I even knew what hit me, pushing him back against the wall, sealing his lips into silence with a sampling…”

John licked his lips his breathing growing heavier, his voice deeper, huskier as he continued, “He was going to tell me something, but I wouldn’t let him. I wouldn’t let him, you see, because I was certain it was goodbye and I wasn’t accepting it. Leaving for him was _not_ an option. You left, and I wasn’t losing him too.”

Glancing at Sam he smiled softly, warmly before turning back to Dean who was watching them intently, no doubt fearful he’d hurt his brother. Shaking his head he assured, “I’m not gonna hurt him, Dean, you can relax. You worry about your brother too damned much.”

Sighing he gazed at Sam then stated, “He fought me, you know, every damned time…had to resort to other _less ethical_ methods to gain his compliance, to keep him with me.”

Swallowing hard, licking his lips he turned focusing on Dean as he said, “That night I couldn’t help myself, Sammy. Your brother he’s so damned beautiful… I turned him around, pushed him against the wall, pinned his arms above his head…pressing against him, oh it was like _heaven_. I wanted him then, was prepared to take him but he broke away and started heading for the door. I panicked. He was running, leaving me so I grabbed him again, drew him to me, pinned his arms against him refusing to yield. He asked me to let him go, and I couldn’t. The only reason I did release him is because he told me he wasn’t going away, that he just needed air. He left then. Where he went I’m not sure. If I were to hazard a guess I’d say to call you.”

Drawing to his feet he approached Dean again and lowered beside him as he admitted, “By the time he returned I was nearly panicked, roaming around in a frenzy… Scared the shit out of him when he entered and I spoke to him. Things between us…they changed after that and I became determined…determined to prove to him how much I loved him, needed him, cared about him… He ran away from me the ungrateful bitch, ran and I found him brought him back, marked him _mine_.”

Dean’s eyes squeezed shut as John’s right hand settled on his left side slowly gliding down to rest possessively on his left hip, his hand covering the mark there. It scared him that his dad knew _exactly_ where that mark was. He wanted to fight, to resist…tell his dad to shut the hell up. He didn’t want Sam to hear this. Sam didn’t need to hear it. His inability to move or speak was driving him insane. At that moment in time he hated John Winchester with every fiber of his being, hated him, feared him, loathed him…

As if his dad could read his mind he chuckled gruffly before saying, “You’re angry. Hell pissed is more like it. So fuckin’ beautiful when you’re pissed Dean, so fuckin’ beautiful!”

Smiling broader he shifted before further adding “Stayed with me a bit after I marked him but not willingly, no I had to use aggressive means to keep him with me. Let my guard down during a hunt and the fucker ran. He’s been running now for over a year, eluding me, creating false trails that drove me mad, slipping away just when I found him again… He’s good, he’s really good. I would’ve never found him without you, Sammy. Who better to track Dean then the one who knows him better than anyone else in the world? The one he raised, the one he protected, the one he guided and confided in… It was perfect you being at Stanford, Dean avoiding your college knowing I’d go after you if he so much as spoke to you. He was keeping you safe, guarding you, shielding you from the truth… In fact I only found him again when he resurfaced near your college. I knew he couldn’t avoid you forever and so I waited patiently until he resurfaced close to you. After that I just needed to hook you, convince you he was in terrible danger and you came with me without so much as a fight… It’s a bitch being so close with your brother, isn’t it Sammy? You were inseparable as kids. It’s only natural that you’d be inseparable as adults too. Ain’t life a bitch?”

Chuckling now he tensed as the phone rang; drawing it out of his pocket he opened it and looked at it before glancing at his oldest asking, “You fuck her or something? She’s so damned hooked on you, Dean. Am I gonna have to kill Ellen too? Pity that would be…I like her, we have history. Tell me I don’t have to kill her, Dean. Tell me you didn’t fuck her.”

As Dean’s eyes settled on him he patted his face saying, “Ah that’s my boy. You had me worried there for a moment, so Ellen went all motherly on you, did she? No surprise there. She’s always had a soft spot for you boys even though she’s never met you before…a _correction_ , never met SAM before. She help you out, Dean, she hide you from me? Yeah, she did. I can see it in your eyes. Did she know it was me she was hiding you from?”

Closing the phone and putting it in his pocket he answered his own question, “No she didn’t. Did she Dean? You didn’t tell her. You didn’t tell anyone. No one knows about me, about us. I’m your biggest secret.”

His grin broadened into a smile as he rubbed his hand lightly over the mark on Dean’s hip drawing in a deep even breath as his eyes slid shut. He had missed this, missed it so terribly much: the ability to touch Dean whenever, _however_ he wanted. He felt so warm and alive beneath the palm of his hand. Albeit he couldn’t presently move he still felt glorious, soft and supple. Releasing a soft moan he spoke again his voice taking on a husky tone, “I missed this, missed you so damned much, so damned much. I have you back now. You’re back and you’ll never leave again. You’ll never leave me, and if you do I promise…,” John opened his eyes pinning Dean with a cold stern gaze as his voice hardened becoming tinged in anger, “I’ll kill you.”

Sam felt helpless. He had never felt like that in his life but now watching as his _father_ taunted his brother he was experiencing it. He had been relieved when Dean had entered the hotel room, thankful to have finally found him, glad he was all right. When Dean had demanded why he was there he had been hurt, but that quickly turned into shock then fear, and finally terror, when he saw their dad grab Dean from behind and ram a needle into the side of his neck. It had happened so quickly, so unexpectedly. Dean had fought but was subdued within moments collapsing, going completely lax in their dad’s arms. He thought at first their dad had sedated him but as he and his brother’s eyes locked he became aware that Dean was very much conscious and aware just unable to move. He drew his gun then and as his father gently scooped Dean into his arms before carrying him to a bed and gently lying him upon it all the pieces of the puzzle began to fall rapidly into place, abruptly making total and complete sense.

He hadn’t expected the needle be turned on him next. He should’ve suspected it, but he had been shocked, confused, afraid and so, so very scared. He had led Dean to the one he had been escaping from, had delivered him right into the arms of a psychopath he now dreaded calling father. What the hell had happened after he left he didn’t know but the way their dad seemed so damned fixated on Dean, so damned obsessed with his older brother downright terrified him. The things he was saying to Dean, about Dean… He understood now why his brother was on the run. Their father was literally infatuated with him to the point of obsession…and from what he could so far ascertain from the ideal chatter and one-sided conversation he was privy to their father had acted on those feelings.

Even now he could see how Dean loathed being touched by him, inappropriately touched and groped as their father spoke of his obsession. If Dean could move he’d no doubt be fighting, screaming, trying desperately to get away, but whatever he had given them made them both easily controllable. Neither of them could move. They were trapped and if the heated gazes their father also seemed to be tossing his way were any indication they would both soon be gone, taken somewhere they’d never be found and kept constantly at the mercy of their sadistic father and his unnatural desire for both of them.

Squeezing his eyes shut he attempted to swallow aware of how difficult it was to do so. Breathing seemed to be getting harder and he was becoming worried. Forcing his eyes open he relaxed as they connected with Dean’s concerned ones. He instantly felt safer, calmer and more relaxed in that gaze but saddened that Dean seemed more concerned about him than about what their father was presently doing. As he kept his gaze trained on Dean’s he came to the sudden realization that Dean was only able to “ignore” what their father was presently doing _because_ he was focusing so intently on him. As that realization struck he swore to do what he could to help Dean through the present discomfort and shame he was no doubt experiencing as a result of their father’s caressing and petting.

As the phone rang again Sam found himself daring to hope that it was someone who knew where they were or at least knew where Dean was and had become so worried when he didn’t answer his phone that they continued to call. When their dad had spoke Ellen’s name earlier he had allowed himself to feel slightly relieved, a bit hopeful that she had enough sense to know something was wrong and would help. If she didn’t they would vanish, no doubt. It was unusual for a phone to ring off and on unless someone was trying to ascertain that the owner of that phone was on the other end. He only hoped that luck was on their side, that this person who kept attempting to reach Dean had enough brains to figure out he needed help and was already en route. If not they would have no escape, and he sensed they would never get one once their father had them where he wanted them. The thought alone utterly terrified him.

* *

John licked his lips as he centered his gaze on Dean slipping the hand presently caressing the mark on Dean’s hip up snagging his t-shirt and gently tugging at the material. It quickly let loose slipping free of the jeans he wore and John released a soft snarl before continuing, “I missed you so much, Dean, waited so long, so very long to get you back. You’re mine. You belong to me. We belong together…forever.”

His hand moved to grasp Dean’s waistband beginning to work at the button and fly as he continued, “You, me…,” ripping the zipper down he gazed fondly at the exposed skin there saying, “And Sammy…”

He eased his hand between the jeans and Dean’s flesh moaning in pleasure as his fingers probed and found the roughened scar tissue of his mark on Dean’s hip. As he began to lightly rub his fingers across it he leaned down towards Dean’s face hearing his shaky breath and smiling as he continued, “Hmm you like that, don’t you Dean? You’re mine. You’ll always _be_ mine. You belong to me…and what belongs to me stays with me. You’ll be so happy with me. I know how you’ve ached for me, longed for me to take you and again stake my claim upon you. Beautiful, so fucking beautiful…!”

Carefully his fingers traced each individual curve of the mark feeling heat surge to his groin as his fingers traced the “J” and then the “W”. The brand was still there, skin slightly raised from the scarring left behind upon healing. He had applied it to Dean’s hip so long ago, and could still hear the panic in his son’s breath as he realized what was about to happen. He had smiled broadly at that and told him it was necessary because he had run. The brand was to ensure that Dean would never run again, to remind him of just whom he belonged to. He was certain once it was done it would deter Dean from ever attempting to flee again. He had been wrong and within months Dean had made his escape. He had tracked him for months after that and for well over a year they participated in an active game of cat and mouse. He had been patient knowing that Dean would be his again, after all he _belonged_ to him. He just had to be patient.

Smiling he eased his hand from beneath his son’s jeans and lifted it to Dean’s face gently cupping his cheek before beginning to stroke Dean’s hair affectionately. Gazing into eyes still fixed intently on his youngest son he spoke again, “You were saying your goodbye to Sam, weren’t you Dean? You were planning to disappear for good. You almost succeeded, but you made one fatal mistake… You called Sam with your own _personal_ phone. Shame on you, Dean, you know better than that, but Sammy…he clouds your judgment, gets in your way, makes you forget, always has. He’s your biggest weakness, Dean, and we _both_ know it.”

Glancing at Sam he smiled broader seeing anger reflected in the depths of his eyes. Rising he approached his youngest and leaned in pressing a kiss to his forehead. Drawing back he settled beside him and began to stroke his hair the way he had been Dean’s moments ago and said, “You’re curious, aren’t you? Want to know what I did to Dean and know he won’t tell you. Dean, Dean he’s…magnificent. I love to watch him. He’s glorious all sinewy muscle and smooth skin, sweat it glistens, beads upon him giving his body an irresistible sheen that always makes me mad with wanting him.”

Turning he settled an intense heated gaze on Dean licking his lips before biting gently into his bottom lip. After several moments he turned back centering a gaze on Sam asking, “Have you ever seen him in the midst of orgasm, Sammy? Have you ever watched how his body arches at the peak? How he writhes and his body yields? He’d be all piss and vinegar, your brother. He’d fight me tooth and nail, kicking, biting, clawing as he pushed and fought against me. Straining as he’d try so desperately not to come, not to climax for me. He’d resist, always fighting, always lashing out. I had to start chaining him down to keep him immobile while I drank my fill, drank him in, his scent, licked his body dragging from him what he desperately fought to keep. It was inevitable though, his resistance futile because while his mind wasn’t willing his body had other ideas. His body succumbed and yielded where he would not. Beautiful, so fucking beautiful…!”

Bile threatened to come up burning and catching at the back of his throat festering like hot coals. He tried to swallow past it all the while feeling the pain his brother must have felt and wondering how the hell he had survived it. A tear leaked down his cheek unbidden and his…father automatically brushed it away before pressing a soft kiss to his now closed eyes and whispering, “He’d cry sometimes too, Sammy, but it was always silent tears. Seeing that brief vulnerability in him…that, oh that was so…hmmm…it was an aphrodisiac to me, made me want him even more, made me want to twist him towards the wall and fuck him raw just to hear him scream. Beautiful, so fucking beautiful like you, like his fucking mother.”

Sam was certain he would hurl at any moment but fought to keep it down fearing what would happen. He couldn’t deal with this, he couldn’t handle it. He couldn’t.

His fear merged with overwhelming sorrow and panic edged in desperation, tinged with regrets and sudden understanding, an awareness of Dean and what he’d had to sacrifice, been _made_ to sacrifice for him to live a normal fucking life in college...empathy slammed into him like a derailed freight train that threatened to drive him to his knees as he thought of all the times Dean had been forced into the same damned predicament over and over only he had had no escape, no way to get away, no one to search for him, no one hunting for him, no one caring that he was trapped in a nightmare made to repeatedly submit over and over to the whims of a madman.

* *

He tried to listen, tried to remain alert but it took most of his effort simply to breathe. He wanted to panic but knew to do so would jeopardize his breathing, and he feared the end result. His dad said, told him, the drug makes swallowing difficult and when swallowing is hard and one is focused solely on it then breathing becomes a close second in the detrimental department.

He tried to move, tried to will his body to do _something_ but repeatedly discovered he couldn’t. The drug created paralysis and even now he could barely feel his body. It was actually quite terrifying, but there was nothing he could do about it. When his dad began to caress his hip he wanted nothing more than to pull away, to kick him, to shove him off but his body stubbornly refused to comply. He was helpless, which meant if his dad wanted to he could do anything to him…anything he wanted and it scared him shitless. As his father spent time taking way too many liberties with his presently unresistant body he discovered he couldn’t even tense, the last thing he wanted was the bastard’s hands all over his body. It brought back too many memories, too many recollections of being used like a cheap whore for his father’s sick twisted pleasure. As the hand that had been caressing his hip through his jeans moved up and began to work on releasing the button of them he wanted to scream. He instead repeated a soft mantra in his head of ‘no’ and hoped, hell prayed, that his father wouldn’t use him here in front of his brother who no doubt thought less of him now. His father hadn’t omitted or censored anything he had said and only an idiot would miss the obvious insinuation that sex had been a part of their relationship. Sam was no idiot. He only hoped that Sam saw it for what it had truly been: a gross violation of his trust, of his body…forced relations that equaled to the crime of rape. He hadn’t wanted any of it, had even _begged_ to be spared from it, but John Winchester was a greedy, cold-heartless bastard, a sick mother fucker who would simply laugh before stuffing a gag in his mouth to silence his pleas. When he fought he would be overpowered quickly, if his father had difficulty overpowering him then he’d use drugs or would wait until he was too damned weak from injury to fight and resist. After he ran, after the branding, he was very rarely left free of some form of restraint. He would sometimes be kept for hours secured to a bed or trussed up and locked in a closet until his father returned from a hunt so damned charged that he’d force himself upon him again without hesitation.

The day he ran again he vowed never to return and set out to escape the one who had abused him. He escaped his father for weeks at a time, but he always found him and their relationship became one of stalker and prey. He had to work on remaining steps ahead of his father who was a damned persistent bastard that seemed to draw some sick twisted little thrill from stalking his oldest son. He had managed to succeed, had almost broke completely away until he had made that fatal mistake of calling Sam on his cell phone, a stupid amateur mistake that had landed him here. Unfortunately his mistake also successfully trapped Sammy too.

Now his baby brother the one he had tried so desperately to protect, so desperately to shield also lay helpless at a madman’s hands. There was no comfort in the fact that said madman was their very own father whom he couldn’t miss glancing off and on at his brother with a heated gaze, like he always pinned him with. He wanted Sam too and that terrified him. He had to protect him, everything he did was to protect him, to keep him safe, to keep him from suffering and now, now due to a stupid mistake and his brother’s stubborn streak which nearly rivaled his own they were both trapped, unable to protect each other, unable to defend each other, hell even unable to defend their selves.

The only positive in the whole sick twisted scenario was that his phone was _still ringing_ , which meant that Bobby was most likely en route. They had to hold out a little longer. He was certain that Bobby was on the way and only hoped that he’d make it to them on time. At the moment their father seemed content to keep them secured in beds while he tooted his own damned horn. Apparently what was used to overpower them was a very potent drug or else their dad would be more concerned about the ringing phone. Presently he showed no worry, probably didn’t think his son smart enough to think three steps ahead of him, probably had no idea that one person knew where he was and that one person was Bobby Singer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next:
> 
> Part 10: Race Against Time


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